Kinetic Energy
by The Author's Mighty Pen
Summary: John Bates is a professional thief. He excels in his job because no one suspects him: the older man with a cane and a limp. But when corrupt industrialist, Alex Green, hires him to steal the formula to drought resistant crop hybridization from noted botanical biologist Anna Smith, John may have to rethink his life's goals.
1. The Falling Girl

_They lay together in the grass as the distance cacophony of noises wafted around them. Others playing their games by the seaside as they enjoyed their holiday in the sun with the surf. The two of them, however, remained apart from all that. Up on their grassy knoll, overlooking it all, it was as if they were the masters of their kingdom watching their citizens enjoy themselves._

 _"_ _They say we're getting to the point where they start looking into placements for us." She picked at a grass blade, pulling her fingers along it until the grass curled. "They've got one for me in Dublin. It's domestic duties in a private house."_

 _"_ _Sounds so ancient." He flicked a tiny clod of dirt but it only exploded around his finger and he wiped the residue on his trousers. "Like we're in a period piece or something. It's stupid."_

 _"_ _It's a job, John." Her hand caught his as it went for another dirt clod. "And since neither of us is getting out of here with parents, it's time we started thinking about our lives as adults."_

 _"_ _As if I didn't already think like that when they've got us in separate sides of the building because they're afraid of 'consequences'." He moved his fingers in the air like quotations. "Like any of us would be dumb enough to get pregnant or have sex when half the time that's why we ended up in this miserable place."_

 _"_ _It's not all bad."_

 _"_ _They've got a metal gate separating the Girls' Stair, Vera." He raised an eyebrow at her. "What exactly do you think they're trying to do? Invite us in?"_

 _"_ _They're religious people, John, and they're thinking about us." Vera paused, brushing a bit of John's hair from his forehead. "They only have so much funding and each year there are more of us."_

 _"_ _You think I haven't been counting the bread slices we get at dinner too?" He watched her face before taking her hand. "I... I don't want a placement because they'll give us what they can find. That would send us to different sides of this island. Maybe even to England. I don't want us to separate."_

 _"_ _You think us running off together solves that?" She grinned at him, her fingers tracking up his shirt buttons. "We'll run away together, get a tiny, cramped flat, and then live our lives as kings in the squalor?"_

 _"_ _At least they'd be our lives." His hand covered hers and he kissed the back of it. "I love you, Vera, and I don't want to lose you to 'domestic servitude' when we can find our dreams somewhere else."_

 _"_ _Like where? With some pickpocket gang?"_

 _"_ _What books've you been reading that you're speaking like we're in a Dickens' novel?" John shook his head at her. "And I don't pickpocket. I'm good with my hands and fingers and that's not a crime."_

 _"_ _It is when they catch you for all those little bits and bobs you've been pilfering. All those locks you've been leaving opened after you test your little pins in them."_

 _"_ _I'll have you know that I impressed the locksmith they brought by to fix the pantry lock and he's offered me an apprenticeship." John paused, his mouth twitching toward a smile. "In Dublin, actually."_

 _"_ _Dublin?" She blinked at him. "We'd be going to the same place?"_

 _"_ _If Father Geraghty says yes then we are." John found Vera's hand again. "To us and our inevitably cramped flat."_

 _"_ _It'll be ours and that's all that matters." Vera leaned forward but the shout of a nun stopped them kissing. She sighed and shook her head. "And we'll be away from prying eyes and talks of abstinence."_

 _"_ _And we'll be together." John squeezed her hand. "You and me, forever."_

 _"_ _Forever." She smiled back at him. "Forever and ever."_

 _They leaned closer again but instead of kissing on the grass near the sea she was falling. He reached for her, his fingers stretching as if he could bring her to his grip with sheer force of will, but she escaped his clutches. Instead he watched as she fell and her scream filled his ears until he matched it with his own._

* * *

He sat upright in bed, sweat immediately puckering his skin in the cold air rumbling gently from the aircon in the corner of the room. Fumbling at the bedside table for the remote, he shut the machine off. It sputtered and died and he fell back onto his pillows to try and slow his breathing.

If he closed his eyes he could still see her, arms flailing as if in slow motion. He could still feel the banister biting into his hands as he clung too tightly to it above the two-story drop. He could still hear the scream that echoed over the marble floor and stone walls when she realized there was nothing beneath her. His hands still ached as if he clawed the air in vain attempts to catch her, to try saving her, and each time their fingers brushed just enough to give him a second of false hope before the inevitable crack when her body hit the floor.

Tossing his blankets from his body he grimaced when his feet hit the cold floor. He stood, limping slightly to the desk and opened his laptop. With a sigh he typed in his password, reaching over to flick the switch on the black box next to him so it hummed to life in the quiet of the room. The lights flickered, changing from red to green and then a steady blue, as the laptop screen fuzzed before settling.

"Good morning." He reached for the cup on his desk, grunting when the cold tea inside it appeared more like sludge. "Of course."

The grind of the modem set a bass line for the gurgle of water and then the hiss of his gas stove as he set a filled kettle there before rinsing the brown-gray sludge from his tea cup. He rubbed a hand over his face, stretching his arms back before pulling his shirt over his head, and kept an eye on both machines to monitor their progress. As he tossed the shirt onto his bed, he crossed the short distance to type the appropriate commands into the macros to bring up a barren site. With a quick check toward the still flickering stove, he scrolled through the available options as he read each one carefully.

He squinted at the text, sucking on his tongue a moment before typing his reply to a few of the inquiries. The kettle whistled and he turned from sending his next reply to pull it off the stove. Switching off the gas he put the bag in his cup, pouring the steaming water to let the dried herbs in the bag steep until the water turned a rich golden-red color.

Blowing the steam off the top of the cup he took his seat again, cracking his neck as he did so. Once he got comfortable in the chair again, sipping at his still-steaming tea, he sighed at the site. "What kind of replies do we have now?"

Within ten minutes a flashing icon at the bottom of his screen had him pulling a Bluetooth to his ear and clicking it before logging out of the site and into another to access an email. "Tell me what we've got Henry."

"Someone wants you to go to Moscow."

"I know, I read that one." He shuddered, "I hate Russia in the winter."

"We all hate Russia John but they're willing to cut you a deal for the acquisition and it's a big deal."

"How much?"

"They're offering two million even. But," John waited, a pause on the line allowing him to hear frantic typing from Henry's end. "Someone else will give you five. It's your choice but I'd take the bigger payout."

"Of course you would."

"It's more for you."

"And more for you." John finished his tea and set it aside as he opened the blinking email to read the details. "Have we worked for either of them before?"

"The one offering five tried to give you a job about six months ago."

"Why didn't I take it?" John finished reading and pushed back from the desk. With the phone still in his ear he went to his closet to finally dress for the day.

"You were busy in Bermuda."

"That wasn't a bad option." John paused, "Can't we find another tropical job?"

"None on the lists for the moment."

"Just my luck." John sighed, using the moment to button his trousers. "Alright, I'm not fielding suggestions and your limited opinions."

"Take the five job. The other offer is a bit of a tosser."

"You know them?"

"I know of them and they'll try to skimp somehow."

John shrugged, getting into his button-down. "I'll let you make the deal then."

"It's finalized now." Henry's voice came over the Bluetooth again. "You're all set. They'll give me final details in an hour."

"Then I've enough time to get a flight to Moscow." John groaned, "Cold does nothing for my leg you know."

"But imagine what holidays five million buys."

"Only if you're buying something with it."

"What's the point of having ridiculous wealth and not spending it?"

"I told you Henry, we invest that money because we're out at a billion."

"No, you're out at a billion." Henry's voice laughed on the other end, "I'm the man behind the machines. I'm here forever."

"It does make it easier for you since no one sees your face." John pulled out his tie, resting it around his neck before pulling the sheets and blankets up the bed, tightening it in military style. "What kind of persona are you making for me?"

"I'd say you should be a little more Australian this time."

"I can do that." John tightened his tie, pulling it up to his collar, "Australian from where?"

"I'm putting your home as Kirandra."

"Where is Kirandra?"

"It's near Melbourne. Honestly John, read a book sometime."

"I do read, Henry." John looked over his room, taking his cup to make himself more tea. "Just not the things you read."

"Well you'll be reading a lot in an hour when I send you the information for what you're acquiring."

John laughed, letting the next bag soak in the water, "Why don't you just call our job for what it is?"

"I'm sorry," Henry cleared his throat on the other end of the line, "The item you'll be _stealing_. Better?"

"I don't believe in giving ourselves any illusions about what we do."

"What illusions?" The printer on the desk beeped and pages started rolling out of it. "There's the information. I'll have your passport and papers ready in the locker, like normal. Standard protocols and procedures."

"I assumed." John leafed through the pages, "Will I see you there Henry?"

"You don't see me John, that's how this works. You don't see me and I don't see you." John waited through the pause. "It keeps us safe."

"It's too bad. I imagine you as someone who looks just like that guy who played Ozymandias in _The Watchmen_."

"I'm not a blonde. I'll call you when I have it John."

"Thanks Henry." John unclipped the Bluetooth from his ear and tossed it on the desk, taking the information the printer. "What have we here?"

* * *

 _He called out to her, repeating her name over and over. His whisper echoed over the halls. He waited a moment, listening for other noises in the corridor. A moment later he heard the padding of feet, the swish of a nightgown._

 _"_ _John?"_

 _"_ _Vera," He smiled, seeing her white nightgown give her a kind of glow in the darkness. He reached out a hand to her, "I came."_

 _"_ _Just like you promised." She grabbed his hand, holding tightly to pull him over the rail but John shook his head._

 _"_ _I can't stay. He'll be back anytime."_

 _"_ _Then we'll say you just got lost." She pulled and he started to climb over the bannister. "We're going to leave together son anyway so what does it matter?"_

 _"_ _Vera don't-"_

 _At that moment a growling bark startled them. John gripped the bannister with both hands, pulling Vera forward. She stumbled, falling into the bannister, and tried to right herself. Between her efforts and John's fruitless attempts to grab and steady her, Vera barely got back into a standing position. One that left them gaping at the sight of the charging dog after the man's voice ordered it forward._

 _The dog jumped and Vera, tripping herself as she tried to get away from the bannister, fell back into it. With its large bulk the frothing German shepherd pushed into her and Vera took the weight in her midriff. It sent her over the edge, John reaching for her flailing hand._

 _But he missed and she fell._

* * *

John started from his chair, almost rolling across the floor and sending his heart racing at the moment his life flashed before his eyes, and blinked at the sparse room around him. His chest rose and fell quickly and he tried to steady his breathing as a beep alerted him. Nervous fingers, still shaking in the aftermath of adrenaline, knocked over his empty tea cup as he grabbed for the Bluetooth. It barely got into his ear as John finally steadied his voice.

"Yes?" He coughed, sorting over the papers scattered on his lap, the floor, and the desk before stacking them neatly to the side. "What is it Henry?"

"You alright there?"

"I almost fell out of my chair. It's nothing." John rolled his shoulders and tried to steady his voice again. "What is it?"

"It's all ready. Your tickets are for this evening and your things are waiting for you at the train station in Moscow. Same locker number as always, forty-seven."

"Thanks Henry." John ended the call, shaking himself out. He coughed to clear his throat again, testing his Australian accent. "My name's John Bates."

He coughed again, testing it, "John Bates, good to meet you."


	2. The Red Square

John brushed at his moustache, and tried to massage at his upper lip as the itching sensation persisted. The line moved forward and he busied himself reaching for his handkerchief to excuse the dip of his head to avoid the camera. He sniffled into it while the customs officer examined his passport he handed over while suppressing a weak imitation of a sneeze. The woman in the booth frowned up at him, her nose wrinkling as if to inspect if he left any trace of a sneeze on the glass of her booth, before stamping the book and handing it back to him. "Welcome to Moscow Mr. Bernhard."

"Spasibo." He nodded to her, taking the passport and tucking it into his coat as he followed the rush out of customs.

Working his way through the crush, John reached the locker with a worn number forty-seven etched into it. John tried to smother his snort as he removed the key from inside his coat pocket and opened the tight metal door. It swung back and John played a game of shuffle and he removed the duffle bag jammed inside before replacing it with the briefcase in his other hand.

He quickly checked to make sure no one paid him any mind before he shut the door and turned the key to lock the contents securely inside. The process took no more than a few minutes but by the time John joined the taxi queue he walked differently, held his shoulders in a hunch, and gruffed his voice for the few Russian words he knew. Everyone gave him room, grumbling about his attitude, but it got him to a taxi without leaving him exposed to the cameras.

The driver dropped him at the base of a large tenement building and John shouldered the duffle bag for the climb to the appropriate room. A climb that left his right leg shaking slightly and John leaned against the wall in the echoing stairwell to massage into the muscles to stop the tremors. They eventually dissipated and John adjusted the strap on his shoulder as he stood as tall as he could before entering the corridor with a worn rug and temperatures barely above those outside.

He managed the threadbare carpet and ignored the sounds coming from the other flats before finding the one that matched the other key in his pocket. Opening the door, John let his shoulders sag at the water stain on the ceiling, the little stove in the corner, and a belching heater sputtering and dying in another corner. A bed with a lumpy and sagging mattress took the third corner and a tiny window offered him a smudged view of the city.

John tossed his duffle onto the bed, cringing at the creak of the springs, and went to the final corner where a sink sat precariously above a toilet and a molding curtain to pull around in the need for a shower from the hose strapped to the wall. He ignored all of these before grabbing one end of the false mustache on his lip and tearing it from his skin. The searing pain immediately reddened the area and he dug in the duffle for a cloth to wet with the bone-chilling water he encouraged from the tap. Immediate application of the rag to his upper lip soothed the irritation as he flushed the mustache in the rusting toilet.

A ringing sounded in his pocket and John searching for his earpiece with one hand while the other continued to treat his upper lip with the frigid cloth. He managed to get the piece into his ear and tapped it to start the call as he sat in the only chair in the room. It squeaked under his weight but one look at the stained linoleum had John settling in the uncomfortable wooden creation.

"This is Bernhard."

"This is Henry, you're clear for bugs."

"Not sure where they'd hide any in this shithole you managed to get me." John took another look around the room. "Don't try and tell me this was the best you could do."

"I won't do you the disservice but someone wanted to save money."

"I meant I didn't want you putting me up in the Marriot or something. Not that I wanted to get tetanus if I want to wipe my ass after using the toilet." John cringed, "Whatever I had in mind for donation, invest it in a company that'll tear down these heaps and make places with warm water and real heating please."

"Is this part of the business investment you're taking up after you're 'out'?"

"I heard the tone in your voice," John scooted his chair closer to the bed, only catching it once on the crack linoleum, to dig in the duffle. "And I don't like the implied question there."

"Why not?"

"Because there's no question. I'm out after I reach my mark. I told you that." John laid out his accouterments. "And after this job we'll retire the mustache. It itches like mad and trying to stop myself scratching at it's as obvious as if I kept scratching. It's a liability."

"I wanted to cover up your beautiful baby face."

"Call it my baby face again and I'll make sure you never speak again." John eyed his things. "Otherwise I think I avoided all cameras and attracted no attention."

"Always a ghost, it's my favorite thing about you." Henry paused, "And facial hair is a trigger. It gives people a false impression and distorts perceptions. It's distinctive and it helps you avoid facial recognition."

"Doesn't mean it's not the worst." John turned to the heater and tried to coax anything approximating warm air from it. "What else?"

"Have you perfected your Aussie accent?"

"It's passable enough that if I'm speaking to a Russian then they'll only know it's a vaguely English something. If I meet a real Aussie I'm screwed."

"Then you've not perfected it?"

"I did something with it and given the tight timeline on this that's the best I'll be doing with it." John debated removing his coat before succumbing to it. He shivered as he dug into the duffle to find the change of clothes there. "When do I go in? Do you have the updated timeline?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow…" John looked around the flat and shook his head. "I'll catch something here. And if it's not hypothermia then it'll be an infection."

"Stop being so dramatic. That flat's treated for its aesthetic. No one tries to get into a shithole like that."

"You're telling me this is for effect?" John knocked his hand against the heater and it belched before blasting him with warm air. "Did you just…"

"I did. I'll keep it at a reasonable level and I promise I'll find a way to get you a little hot water for a shower."

"I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you."

"Your choice." Henry snorted a laugh, "But the point is, the Green Federation's holding a press conference tomorrow to discuss their company merger with that Serbian Oil Conglomerate."

"I wouldn't use the term merger."

"Whatever you want to call it, they'll be announcing it tomorrow and so they need additional security. Given the… Questionable nature of their acquisition-"

"There you go again, using that word."

"That's what they called it and I'll respect their careful marketing scheme." Henry laughed, "And for a man who robs people for a living you're very touchy with your vocabulary."

"Don't mistake it for idealism. I just prefer we keep ourselves as honest as possible in these things."

"Again, says the man who robs people for a living."

John paused, rubbing his hands together as he paced over the floor. "I do hope you put us on a secure line for this call. I don't want to meet Russian police."

"Of course it's a secure line. I don't even order take away without at least two routers running."

"And let me guess," John rubbed at the window but it only increased the grime there. "You have flying robots who retrieve it for you."

"That's ridiculous." John could swear he heard Henry shuffle in his seat on the other end of the line. "Everyone knows the best robots use treads."

"Sorry I asked."

"Point is, you've got your uniform and cover ID in the bag. I got you into the system as part of the extra security they hired. It's a smaller detail so you'll be keeping people back during the warm-up acts."

"And they'll bring out their bruisers when someone big comes on to talk about the opportunities and wonders of what they're doing now?"

"Exactly."

"Wonderful." John paced the tiny space again. "I'm just keeping protestors away from it all then?"

"Yes. And your position puts you at the back door so you'll have an easy way to slip inside. Far less security back there and you'll use the change in lineup as your cover for a bathroom break."

"Is this another bathroom infiltration?"

"It was the quickest way and-"

"Henry…" John rubbed over his face, tossing the cloth toward the sink to slap there. "You know I hate that."

"It's the choice we've got. It's the easiest access for you since you've got a cane and it's harder to hide a costume change in a corridor."

"I… Fine." John sighed, "When do I have to see a man about a dog?"

"When the speeches actually start."

"They'll send out the big men to hand out a few bruises to anyone making too much trouble for them and I use that for cover." John shook his head. "Let's hope that's all they'll hand out. I don't think we're counting on additional police if there's a riot or a full-on brawl."

"I can delay them a few minutes at most."

"We'll play that bit by ear then." John examined the ID and nodded to himself. "I'm assuming you're sending me out of the country as Mr. Bernhard then."

"It's why I had you keep the briefcase… And why there's an extra false mustache in your duffle."

"Dick."

"It's all about your safety, John." Henry sighed on the other end. "And you're just a German man here for a few meetings. You leave tomorrow afternoon."

"The train leaves at eight, according to the ticket in my briefcase."

"That's right. Press conference finishes by two and you need to be done with your bit long before then."

"If I'm as good as I think I am, I will be." John looked over the items again. "What else?"

"Don't go back to the flat until four. Standard survelliance route will be included in your packet there. Study it and know it to loose anyone. Hang out in a café for a stretch and then run another one. Get back to the flat and scrub it down before you leave."

"Do you loose the security deposit if you have to have someone else clean it for you?" John grimaced at his surroundings again. "I'd hate to ruin the ambiance."

"Don't be a prick. I might use that location again and I don't need conflicting DNA should anything happen."

"Your funeral." John sat back in the chair again. "What time do I need to report tomorrow to my temporary post?"

"Seven am."

"Bloody hell."

* * *

John shivered and stomped his feet as he held out his arms to keep the crowd back from the doors. His watch face glinted between the material of his coat and gloves, catching the light to reflect in his face. Risking a peek at it, noting the time and the small timer ticking down in the corner, John quickly covered it as he turned back to his duty.

The cold ground John's teeth and he stamped his boots to try and get warmth into his toes. Any of the other men with him were still strangers as no one wanted to risk losing any heat through conversation but they shared a similar approach to trying to keep warm. The stamp of their boots and the occasional clap of their gloves formed an odd rhythm that kept John company until someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning to the back door, John almost sighed in relief when the larger men in a much thicker coat signaled he would take John's place.

Without a word, the larger men took their positions and the crowd quieted only a moment before breaking into loud argument. Their signs and protests took on more gusto, despite the cold, but John ignored them. He joined the others from his duty time as they entered the building. No one commented on his limping as they peeled off to join a collection of other security guards sharing steaming mugs and cigarettes next to a roaring furnace. A furnace John looked at longingly before going to the security checkpoint where he pointed to the bathrooms just beyond.

One of the men called out to him, trying to insist on his ID, and John handed it over before reacting to another man calling from behind. The man shrugged at John before pointing toward the furnace and the mugs but John pointed at the bathrooms again. Men all around him laughed and spoke in Russian, their signals and motions suggesting lewd humor that John only half-laughed at before taking his ID and proceeding to the cracked wood door.

Pushing in, John tried to cover his mouth and nose at the stench of the room. He counted stalls, checking for any feet under them, and finally found the second to last one. Knocking against it opened the door and John covered his mouth and nose again at the sight in the toilet itself. He shut the lid, trying to breathe normally through his glove, and used his other hand to reach back and zip a hood completely over his face.

It formed a mask that tightened when John settled the filter over his nose and mouth, giving him fresh air for the first time in minutes. He adjusted the eyepieces to fit snugly in his sockets and rolled his shoulders as he rid himself of the now stifling coat before zipping his gloves to his sleeves to leave his body completely covered by the suit. With a moment to ensure the suit fit perfectly, John dug into his coat to retrieve his cane.

Unfolding it, John held the end and knocked it into the vent above the stall. It fell onto the floor and John used it to cover the top of the toilet before climbing onto it. He extended the cane back into the vent and hooked it over a pipe to lift himself into the opening. When he reached the vent, John reached down for the vent and pulled it back into place before crawling along the steaming tunnel.

A beeping echoed in his ear and he pushed his wrist to expose the face of his watch. Red lines appeared and John followed them until his watch beeped again. John stopped and held himself still as he adjusted the temperature of his suit. Once it finished another beep sounded in John's ear.

He hauled himself forward and knocked a vent sideways. It swung down and John hooked the end of his cane on the pipe above him before sliding down the opening. Once he swung down, John dropped to the floor of the deserted room before reaching his cane back up to knock the vent back into place.

John took a second to check the room before opening the door to the atrium. Ensuring it was empty, John slipped through the gap and the atrium before reaching a back corridor. The door almost jammed but John nudged it with his shoulder to get through the door and followed the back hallway to a keycard locked door. His knocked his watch against it and the light went from red to green.

Opening it, John followed another corridor to a black door with a crank lock. Pulling out some wires from a zippered pocket, John slipped them into the plate to expose the interior and attached the leads from his watch to wait for the chrome pad to match all the numbers to blink green. He disentangled the wires and watched the crank move until the door dinged to open.

Tucking the wires back into his watch, John moved into the safe and reached behind him to close the door. It locked with a thick set of metal bars and John let out a breath. He gave himself a moment to dry-wash his hands in his gloves before swinging up his cane to tap it against his watch. They vibrated and John extended his cane up to run along the lines of safety deposit boxes covering the walls.

As the cane slid along the metal of the boxes, John watched the face of his watch to match the outline of the contents inside the boxes. He finished one wall and moved to the one directly opposite the black door. When he reached the middle of the wall he paused at the image on the watch. A small change and the watch beeped.

John smiled inside the mask, contorting it slightly, and he brought his cane down. Twisting the top, he touched the metal surface to the lock and closed his eyes behind the glass eyepieces. A fizzle and pop later, the lock dropped back into the box and he opened it to pull out the box. The lock fell but he caught it, tucking his cane under his arm, and opened the metal lid to extract the black container roughly the size of a jewelry box.

Pushing the metal back into the safety deposit box, John opened the small container and nodded at the site of a flash drive. He closed the safety deposit box, zipping the flash drive's box into his suit, and almost turned when he heard a click behind him. A moment later something pressed to the back of his head and John tightened his elbow against the cane to keep it to his side as his fingers still held the burnt lock.

"I think you've got something that doesn't belong to you."

"Do I?" John croaked through his mask, his Aussie accent already struggling. "I'm sorry if I happened to get ahold of something valuable to you. Give me a second and it'll be back and we'll go on our ways."

The hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to look at the gun through his eyepieces. A man with auburn hair held the gun steady and John swallowed. "It's not that simple."

"No?"

"This place has security you managed to bypass and, before I put this bullet in your brain, you'll tell me how you got past my father's protocols."

"It wasn't me. I'm just the go-to man."

The man snorted, stepping back with the gun still leveled at John's face. "With a cane and a limp? Someone's really scraping the bottom of the barrel with you."

"Probably." John slid to stand straighter and the man brought up a second hand. It triggered John dropping the lock and kicking it away before the man could tell what it was. "Sorry to drop your precious drive. Guns make me nervous."

"Then don't move." He slid back, bending to pick up the lock, and that was when John struck.

Swinging his cane upward, John caught the man under the chin. He fell back, tumbling into the wall of metal boxes, and John escaped through the door before closing it behind it. He pressed the end of his cane to the exposed wires and covered his eyes as they sparked and fizzed before an alarm sounded.

"Shit."

He slipped a bit on the floor as he ran, dodging down a corner as men with sidearms called out for him to stop. John ignored them and twisted the head of his cane again, his leg already aching as he shuffle-ran down another corridor, and aimed it at a window. It only took a minute before the sonic pulse shattered the glass and left it clear enough for John to leap forward, his arms protecting his head.

Aiming his shoulder, John hit the top of a covered lorry and rolled on the canvas as he tried to get the air back into his lungs. The cover gave a creak and John forced himself to scramble for the edge, throwing himself off the top before the canvas could give way under his weight. He hit the pavement hard, almost crumpling as the weight rested on his right leg, but he leaned against the lorry to get his bearings. It rumbled to life and John ducked under it to hold to the undercarriage as it slowly rolled away from the building.

John used his cane to keep a grip on the underside of the lorry as he dug around for a bag tucked near his position. With that in his grip, John held his breath and swung himself sideways. It cleared him from the lorry and he rolled down a small hill. A hill that almost had him colliding with a homeless man who only gazed drunkenly at John before holding up an almost empty bottle of vodka.

With a snort, John unzipped his mask and finally took a full breath of air. He freed himself from the rest of the suit's constraints and hauled on the clothes tucked into the bag before stuffing his suit into it. When he went to toss it into the river the homeless man stopped him, pointing for the bag. John looked between it and the man before handing it over while pointing toward the man's wretchedly filthy coat.

They exchanged, John providing a fresh coat from the bag after removing the contents of the pockets, and skidded the rest of the way down the hill. He shuffled along, folding up his cane to trade it for a longer, white one and unfolding a pair of sunglasses from the pocket of his new, disgustingly used coat. A few moments later a prosthetic nose fit under the glasses and a beard graced his chin to leave him itching in moments.

The slow gait of a man using a guide stick to move along the riverbank attracted no attention but forced John to fight all instincts to try and run. Instead he kept his gait steady, maintained his pace, and patted the box in his pocket holding the flash drive. A pocket no one checked when he reached a security checkpoint where the security men allowed the bearded, cane-less, blind man to pass through without a pat down the rest of the people received.

John almost smiled to himself as he took the slow route, the first of the two surveillance treks, around the city in the chill of a winter afternoon in Moscow.


	3. The Married Woman

John settled in his seat, tapping the tips of his fingers together in time to the music playing over his headphone, when a woman took the seat next to him. At first John ignored her, lost in the music, but when her hand came over his, interlacing their fingers, and John turned to confront her. Before he could open his mouth, her high cheekbones and icy stare silenced him.

"Ozymandias sends his regards."

Giving a little snort John settled back into his seat. "I wondered if he listened to my suggestions. Thank you for giving me a bit more brightness to my day."

"I'll be honest." She faced him, "I've zero interest in what brightens your day."

"Are you here to brighten yours?"

"Against my better judgment, yes." She held out her hand and John dug in his pocket to extract the flash drive. It only took her a moment to examine it before slipping it into her phone. After a moment it beeped and she tucked both phone and drive away. "It seems you succeeded again."

"You sound disappointed."

"That's my normal tone." She shifted, "It's what everyone gets."

"Well, since you're new-"

"I'm not new."

"New to me." John waited, "I'll just let you know that I'm not one for failure. Haven't yet and don't intend to."

"People don't intend to fail. They just do." She sighed, "It's the price we pay for being human."

"I'll keep that in mind." John nodded toward her, "Do you work for Henry?"

"I work _with_ Henry, there's a distinct difference." She handed over a phone. "Dump the one you have and then enter the code from the last one when you get off in London. It'll send you an automatic text with the transfer details and then you dump this one as well."

"So wasteful."

"So protective." She stood up, "It's been… What I hope is standard."

"Hope will be standard?" John frowned, "What does that mean?"

"I'll be working with you for the next few jobs. You can call me Mrs. Crawley."

"Is that your name?"

"It's what I use and it'll suffice." Mrs. Crawley extended a hand, "Introductions usually mean you tell me your name too."

"You don't already know?"

"Henry makes it a point to keep us in the dark as much as possible." Mrs. Crawley sniffed, "He likes being the one pulling all the strings."

"Doesn't he just?" John snorted before shaking her hand. "It's Mr. Bates, for me, and I hope that'll be alright."

"It's your name and if you chose it then so be it and if someone gave it to you then I guess that's your problem, not mine."

"You really are a rather magnificent woman."

Mrs. Crawley raised an eyebrow at him. "I hope you're not flirting with me."

"Absolutely not." John shook his head, laughing a little. "I understood what 'Missus' means and I'm not an idiot."

"Good. Because I wasn't hired just for my looks."

"I didn't think so." John pushed off the back of his seat to crane his head. "And what is it that you do while you work with Henry? Other than defend yourself, of course, since that'll be a prime occupation for someone with your level of attractive. Too many men with too few brains around to understand English."

"Too true." Mrs. Crawley allowed him a small smile. "You're a quick one."

"Only in conversation." John winked and nodded at her. "But what do you do in this work with Henry?"

"I'm the courier." She settled into the seat, "I also play act a bit on the weekends when I'm not singing in jazz clubs."

"You sing?"

"When forced."

John smiled at her, "I think I should come and hear you sometime."

"And why would you do that?"

"Because I've got a feeling Henry wouldn't have us meet if you're just a courier." John waited, noting the slight twitch across Mrs. Crawley's face. "I see. What is he having us do together then?"

"We've only got to pretend like we arranged a romantic rendezvous."

"I don't really go for one-night stands. I find them invasive."

"As do I." She shrugged, "It's more to get us used to one another."

"I hope that's not a euphemism like people used to use to talk about sex."

"If I want to talk about sex, Mr. Bates, I'll bloody well talk about it." Mrs. Crawley stood, "But since we're not ever having that I think we can avoid all the awkwardness of even debating the logistics of that encounter."

"Then where do I meet you?"

"Outside customs. You'll bump into me like a pass but stumble a bit."

"With my leg that's not hard." John pushed up with his arms to look over the train carriage. "Are you in a hurry to get somewhere Mrs. Crawley?"

"I've a seat farther up." She shrugged her shoulder but John caught sight of the camera she blocked with her back and gave a small nod. "But it was lovely meeting you and I look forward to our continued acquaintance."

"As do I, Mrs. Crawley." John watched her walk away and laughed to himself. "Oh Henry, what'd you get yourself into with her?"

The rest of the ride rocked John into a doze. One that sent him into the land of half-dreams so he still heard the noises of the train but the images he saw were those from his nightmares. Vera falling, over and over until the horrible crack of her strike on the floor shot him from sleep in time to hear the voice calling for final stop.

John grabbed his cane, leaning on it as his leg spasmed, and reached above his head for his roller bag. The train shook a moment and his cane slipped with it, loosening his grip on the handle. It turned in his grip and John barely wrangled it sideways as it dropped to the floor and hit hard sideways.

"Dammit."

He reached for the handle again, angling himself sideways to try and hold himself with his cane and grab for the bag, but another hand hurried to help. The smaller, more slender, and far more elegant hand grabbed it before he could and pulled the handle up to spin it toward him. As John put his hand over the handle, his fingers touching hers, their eyes met and he lost himself in the deepest blue he had ever seen dazzling above the loveliest smile ever shined toward him.

"There you are. No harm done since you went with one of the most durable brands." She waited and John shook himself to speak, trying not to focus on her blonde hair or the bright face. "Are you alright?"

"Perfectly, now." John coughed, clearing his throat. "Isn't it supposed to be me helping you with your bag?"

"I've already got mine so you're a bit late there." She patted the one hanging off her shoulder and stepped back. "After you."

"I think you're overthrowing all the rules of chivalry here."

"I don't think we're in need of all those rules about jousting." She winked and John took her cue to leave the train before her. He reached the platform and then offered her a hand. She took it with a smile and nodded toward customs. "I don't suppose I could interest you in accompanying me to customs. Just in case there are more chances for you to attempt to be chivalrous on the way."

"I'd be more than interested. I've a reputation to restore." John pushed his bag forward and the woman pointed to her upper lip.

"Did you grow that yourself?"

"No, it's a fake." He frowned, "Why'd you ask?"

"Looks a bit… Off color. Like it doesn't quite match your hair."

"It was the best I could find." John shrugged, "I'll admit, not the best one but it was the one I got."

"Then why not grow one yourself? If you were so disappointed with your options at… Whatever place they sell fake facial hair."

"You can buy them at any costume place or a chemists, if you know where to look. And as for why I wouldn't grow it…" John shook his head, "I hate facial hair."

She frowned, "Then why are you wearing a fake mustache?"

"Because I was at a dinner party until late last night. We were all dressed up for our little murder mystery event and I fell asleep like this. My alarm failed me this morning and I had to rush for the train. Unfortunately spirit gum shouldn't be removed unless you can immediately apply a hot cloth to the area and since I couldn't… I decided I'd have to suffer the consequences."

"Stings does it?" She pointed at his lip, "When you pull it off."

"More than you know." John shrugged. "So it stays on until I get home."

"Why were you dressing up for a murder mystery?"

"I'm part of a traveling act." John worked his passport out of his coat but kept it hidden from her, not wanting her to ask about being German when he had no accent. "It's one of the things we do."

"Where do they still have murder mysteries like that?"

"Private party in Germany." John hurried to change the subject, "What about you? What brings you on the EuroStar?"

"Conference in Vienna." She patted her bag. "I had this huge presentation and only almost fainted twice."

"New record?"

"I'm shy by nature. More of a one-on-one kind of person. Presenting the latest research to a room full of people is terrifying to me."

"Then I'm going to guess you work in some kind of lab."

"I'm a professor, actually. I teach at Cambridge in their botanical sciences department."

"I've never been to Cambridge but I was sure that there wasn't a botanical sciences department."

She laughed and they moved forward in line. "Technically it's called the Department of Plant Sciences but then everyone thinks you're just a gardener."

"And no one thinks that when you say botanical sciences?"

She let out another laugh, "Most don't but I should've asked what you thought when I said 'botanical sciences'."

"Something far beyond my intellect."

"Don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you're very intelligent." She pointed at his false mustache. "You've got your murder mystery friends and that's a kind of intelligent. Different from mine, sure, but it's one all your own."

"I've never thought about it that way but thank you for the compliment."

"It was free to give." She paused, her jaw shifting slightly. "I do take comfort that your intelligence means that you didn't immediately try to one-up me with some kind of great accomplishment of your own."

"Why would I do that?" John pointed to the mustache as the man in front of her went to the next window. "I'm wearing this and told you I play act for a living. What could I possibly have to say?"

"Something funny?" She smiled and went to the next booth.

As she left, John caught sight of Mrs. Crawley standing on the other side of the booths. He opened his passport and handed it to the man at the booth welcoming him into the country. Or not welcoming, as the man examined every detail of the passport and then quizzed John for twenty minutes on his intentions and monetary situation while in the country.

When he finally escaped the crush, John searched but could not see the blonde woman. Instead he sighed and walked over to Mrs. Crawley. She pushed herself off the wall and turned to grab her bag just as John ran his into it. His wheels tangled in the strap and he bent to take care of it, dropping his cane with a loud clatter that disturbed those around them enough to notice the problem and want to stay far away from the awkward social interchange.

"I'm so sorry." He struggled to extract the strap as Mrs. Crawley passed the drive into his suit jacket in an act to pretend a tug at the strap herself.

"It's nothing." She assured him, abandoning the bag as John grabbed the strap and yanked it free of the wheels. "I'm sure it's not the first time my things have ever gotten in the way."

"I'm just so distracted." He hurried to explain, taking his cane from her as he noticed the barely perceptible nod. "Didn't we meet on the train?"

"I think I remember someone of your sincere manners." She extended a hand, "Mary Crawley."

"Johannes Bernhard." He gruffed up his German accent, "I hope you don't find it much of an imposition if I propose a coffee or something to recompense your bag."

"I never say no to such generosity of spirit." Mary lifted her bag from the floor, "But perhaps something a bit closer to home for you."

"A lager then?"

"I do like a good amber brew." Mary pointed toward the door. "Shall we?"

They fell into step, Mary checking her pace to match his with the cane. She smiled at him, turning to lower her voice and whisper through her teeth. "Is the cane strictly necessary?"

"It's function over fashion."

"Ah," She pulled back a bit, "Henry mentioned something about an injury."

"Service reminder."

"Which branch?"

"Police, in Ireland."

Mary kept her other questions as superficial as possible, laughing loudly when they neared one of the security guards. They called for a cab and John gave directions to the pub in question. They found a booth in the back and John reached into his pocket to remove the drive she dropped there. As a waiter approached them Mary turned and flashed him a wide smile.

"I would like to get a Guinness and my friend here will order-"

"Erdinger Kristall."

"I'm sorry sir," The tall blonde man winced, "We've only got Spaten Oktoberfest."

"Oh," John removed the drive and held it in his hand while reaching to grip the man's arm. The waiter snuck his hand around to grab the drive and slip it into a pocket under the cover of his large serving tray. "Then I'll go with Guinness like my new friend here."

"Two Guinness coming up." He disappeared and John shrugged.

"How long does the charade last again?"

"I think we spend an hour here until they authenticate the drive's information and you get a ding off that phone in your pocket." She slid a glass toward him, "For your old one since I know you didn't dump it."

"How'd you know that?" John reached in to remove the two phones, leaving the new on the tabletop and dropping the other into the glass of water. It bubbled and gurgled as it settled. John took the other phone and entered the code, watching the small screen glow. "What's with the ancient bricks?"

"Henry thinks they're safer."

"And the waiter?" John jerked his head toward the swinging door where their waiter vanished. "Is he new? He wasn't the one they had last time."

"What does it matter? He's just a fetch and carry boy. They're a dime a dozen." Mary shrugged, "You keep some and you lose others. It's the way things go in a job like this. High turnover is the way of this life."

"I liked the last one."

"He went to Uni." Mary opened the menu and buried her head in it as if sincerely investigating the options. "Wanted to expand his world and his options because he didn't want to do this forever."

John tapped the table to get her attention. "Is your name really Mary?"

"I know yours isn't Johannes."

"I'm also not really German." John took out his fake passport and the other assorted documents. "They have a shredder here?"

"I'm taking those," Mary held out a hand without looking up from the menu.

"I know you're not going to eat any of that so you might as well talk to me."

Mary dropped the menu, tucking John's documents away. "Talk about what, exactly, Mr. Bates?"

"Is Mary your real name?"

"That's a stupid question and I won't answer it."

"Why not?"

Mary sighed, "Because it's best if we don't get to know one another."

"Why? Because one day I might betray you or you might betray me and then we'll have to confront the tragic loss of a friendship?" John snorted, "We're not in that kind of business."

"What makes you so sure?"

"We're not rich and we've not got anything that anyone wants."

Mary barked out her laugh, "Henry's told me about the man who works with him who's out at a billion so don't even tell me you don't have something everyone wants or that you're not rich."

"Did Henry also tell you what I plan on doing with the money?" John sat back, twitching his lip in an attempt to relieve the itch of the spirit gum and the fake mustache. "With all the rest of the dossier he gave you about me?"

"There wasn't a dossier."

"And yet you know a lot more about me than I know about you."

Mary shrugged, "I was coming in late. I needed to get up to speed and Henry told me everything I needed to know about the pieces in play."

"Which included me?"

"You seem to be the most critical piece in all of this."

"Fair and more complimentary than I'd have guessed from you."

"I'm not opposed to giving credit where credit is due." Mary settled in her seat, "But from what little about your… personal life, that Henry did let on, I know you've got money and you've been stocking it up."

"And what do you think I'll be doing with it?"

"What men who've never had money before do with money." Mary snorted, "It's always an embarrassingly familiar story, the classic rags to riches tale. You'll go out and buy yourself a yacht or something. You'll waste time in black tie at places you couldn't afford before and then settle on a beach somewhere and drink yourself to death… Unless you bankrupt yourself first."

"That's what you think?"

"People with money don't tend to be very imaginative." Mary shrugged, "Having broken into my share of expensive homes I can tell you that they all have the same thing. Expensive security, nice gardens, large televisions, wine collections they never want to drink at parties because then how do you gloat over them to your guests, and cars that are more trouble than they're worth to fix if even the spark plug fizzles. They buy art and furniture and beautiful women for pool parties but it's all like Jay Gatsby. They're empty and trying to fill the hole with money."

"Almost makes me want to keep my plans to myself."

"Why, because they're terribly unoriginal?"

"Do I look like an original man to you?"

Mary studied him, "I don't know. But I do wonder if perhaps you'll be a bit outside the mold."

"How so?"

"Something more like a room just for your shoes or a library of first-editions instead of wealth you flash around to people. A quiet rich instead of an obnoxious one like most people."

John shook his head, "I'm not Left Ear from _The Italian Job_."

"You don't look anything like Mos Def, that's for sure."

"A little too Irish for that."

"Then what are you going to do with all your ill-gotten gains, Mr. Bates? If not spend it on yourself what do you plan to do with all the money you can't take with you when you inevitably die?"

"You really want to know?"

"We're having this conversation, aren't we?"

John sighed, "I planned to build something with the money."

"Build what?"

"Roads. Mostly in African and south-east Asian where they struggle to get humanitarian aid and building supplies for getting towns and villages back on their feet." John nodded at her, "Not so amazing is it?"

"I guess that's up to the hearer."

"Are you impressed?"

"You didn't ask that and I don't think you give a damn about my opinion." Mary gave him a small smile. "But I get the sinking suspicion there's more to the story than just roads in Africa."

"There is." John took the beer from the waiter and handed Mary hers as well. "There's also an orphanage in Ireland that needs a patron and a few little projects that need some starter capital. Things I can support and invest in to hope that it makes the world a little better."

"You want to be a philanthropist?" Mary almost snorted the foam off the top of her drink. "Will that make you feel better about stealing from other people?"

"This job isn't my dream and it never was. I'm good at it because no one suspects a man with a cane and a limp. Further, like you, I've seen all the houses and the buildings and the penthouses that are just monuments to the ego of men. I don't need anything like that. If I did I wouldn't be in the line of work that puts me in the shadows." John paused, "But no, it doesn't make me feel better about stealing from other people. It's just what I do."

"Then you just want to give back because you've got a bleeding heart?"

"No, I'm not that altruistic because I'll not be giving away everything." John pulled at his beer. "I plan to buy myself a little cottage right on the cliffs in Ireland. A lovely view where the crash of water on rocks can send me to sleep at night and no one can bother me. And who knows, maybe I'll find someone to share it with me."

"And how do you explain your wealth to this woman?"

"I'm sure you know the phrase, 'burn that bridge when we come to it'?"

"Pretty sure that's a malaphor."

"It works all the same." John finished his next swallow as the phone buzzed.

"I think that's confirmation." Mary pointed to it, finishing her drink and patting her pocket. "I'll take care of these and you lose the 'stache as soon as you can. Wouldn't want anyone recognizing you in it."

"It's off my face the moment I get the Tube." John checked the phone and tucked it away. "One step closer to that house on that cliff."

"And those roads in Africa and that orphanage I'm sure." Mary extended a hand over the table, "It's been a surprising pleasure Mr. Bates."

"John." He shook her hand. "And I hope you'll let me call you 'Mary' in the future. 'Mrs. Crawley' seems a bit out of place."

"I am a married woman."

"Does he know what you do?"

"He's not in a position to mind." Mary took her hand back, "You're not what I expected at all."

"I'll be honest, I didn't have enough information to expect anything but if I had, I'm sure you would've surpassed expectations."

"I live to impress."

"You succeed." John eased out of the booth, taking his cane and ripping the mustache off to stuff in the glass with the old phone. He winced and dipped a few of the napkins in the water glass to press to his upper lip. "Until next time."

"Until next time."


	4. The Botanical Scientist

John frowned at the screen and adjusted the distribution of cash until all the lines blinked green. With a smile he finalized and watched the image blink into the next screen. He read the message and brought his Bluetooth to his ear.

"Yes Henry?"

"Did you read it?"

"Middle of it now." John frowned, "It's not what I'd expect from this guy."

"You've refused him before and that was big money."

"I didn't like what you found out about him." John took a deep breath, "I know it's all supposed to be secret bidding, like the woman with too many cats from one cubicle over could be it but this guy… he never asks for the little jobs. They're all connected."

"Seeing as I'm the one with the computers and the programs running correlations you don't need to tell me."

"Then are we sure he's not asking for me because he knows who I am?"

"He can't know that."

"I've got a feeling my prolific and rather sizable profile on this site would tell him I'm someone who's definitely ripped him off before."

"Maybe he's all about pulling _Inception_ and hiring you on the turn around."

John snorted, "The chances of that are exceptionally small."

"I'd still take them for this money." John waited, listening for Henry's sharp intake of breath, "It's the last you need John. It puts you over the edge and then you're out. We burn this whole thing and you vanish."

"While you have the trouble of finding someone else to push into this jobs for your commission?"

"My commission is well-earned," John held back his laugh at Henry's affronted voice. "And sod off if that's what you think."

"I'm more interested in what you think about this." John sucked the inside of his cheek, "Is it worth the risk?"

"The only way we'll know is if we try." He could practically hear Henry's fingers quivering over his keyboard. "Do I tell him yes or no? Because we may never get this chance again."

John read the message again.

 _Seeking skilled artisan. Specifically someone who can work in the weeds and has knowledge of botanical sciences. Seeking a health formula and willing to make a generous offer for the attainment of the mixture to feel like the Fountain of Youth._

"Send a reply to meet and discuss the specifics."

"I thought you were worried they'd know you stole from them before."

"Have we?"

"Probably. If they're running to this level for answers then there's a good chance we were involved with them in the past."

"Then we'll risk it. You can help me set the meet parameters and Mrs. Crawley can help me."

"What's she going to do?"

"Distraction… unless she's got other skills you think I should know about."

"She's pretty good in hand-to-hand combat and very good at close range shooting. I wouldn't give her anything for a longer distance but she'll keep you safe."

"Then we'll be fine." John cracked his stiff knuckles and twiddled his fingers before typing.

 _With extensive skills in working through weeds and finding formulas for those hard to get thing, this artisan would delve deeply into whatever science is required to grant the Fountain of Youth to its worthy recipient._

"Not to say anything about your wording-"

"But you will anyway."

"Yes, I will." Henry sniffed, "I know you studied English Lit as school but no one speaks that way."

"You're the one who made my handle on this thing 'Professor' so they won't be too surprised." John batted his hand at the air. "Find a place in Paris to meet, I don't want it too close to home."

"Afraid they might find out where you live?"

'I don't want to be lulled into a false sense of security by being close to home." John put his finger to the Bluetooth in his ear, "Arrange the details if he takes our bid and then we'll run it in the morning."

"Got another appointment?"

"Actually I do." John hung up and looped the Bluetooth on the tiny cradle next to the laptop before he closed it into the desk.

Grabbing for his cane, John hoisted himself to his feet and worked through his sparsely furnished flat to the door. The Tube was a steady clacking beat of his cane from his building and the ride only took him a few songs deeper into his playlist. When the doors opened, with the voice reminding him to mind the gap, John kept to the edges of the crush before he managed the stairs to the street.

Loud noises surrounded him, driving all other thoughts and sounds far from his mind, and John relaxed in the way his cane no longer drew anyone's focus when all thoughts were elsewhere. Here a man could vanish into the crowd and never be seen again.

His steady steps took him to a plain building and he raised his finger to depress the bell. Within a moment the door opened and a redheaded woman opened it. She smiled broadly at him before stepping back to give him space to enter the room.

"My dear Mr. Bates how are you?"

"Wishing I could spend time with you in different circumstances." John helped her shut the door before kissing the woman on both cheeks. "How are you Gwen?"

"I'm doing alright. About to reach all of my qualification hours so I'll put my name on that door with Mrs. Hughes but it's been interesting learning from her."

"It's daunting moving forward but you manage me and I'm the worst of your patients I'm sure."

"You do tend to overexert yourself but I think it just makes for a bigger challenge." Gwen led him down the hall, "We'll be in this room today."

"Thank you." John entered, catching a glimpse in another room of a woman entering a tank. "What's going on over there?"

"We've got another tank and a friend of mine wanted to give it a try. Said she's been working on something pretty serious and wanted to work it out in completely silence."

"You did warn her about the chances she could find herself hallucinating in there yes?" John stepped behind a screen and stripped down to take the offered clothes from the shelf next to him.

"Of course I did. But it also helps center the mind."

"As one would when all you can hear are your own thoughts."

"For someone who's logged more hours in one of these than anyone else I don't know how you're making side comments about it." John met Gwen's raised eyebrow as he came out in a pair of swim trunks and a shirt. "You do know the shirt's not necessary."

"I'll take it off when you leave the room."

"John…" Gwen stepped toward him and then bit her lip, as if fighting herself to know whether or not to speak. "I've seen your scars during your other rehabilitation exercises. Why are you afraid to show them here?"

"Because the water's where I let myself be free."

"Fine," Gwen put her hands in the air. "Let's get those stretches done first and then we'll give you some time in the tank."

They huffed and struggled through the exercises until John had both hands gripping fiercely to the arms of a chair as he lowered himself into it. Gwen passed over a bottle of water and John sipped at it before stretching his leg to try and stilt he quivering muscles. "I thought you said it was getting better."

"And it is. You're not in a chair anymore and you're not on crutches. Remember when you had those?" Gwen crouched in front of him. "Doctor Clarkson warned you, when you had your first surgeries, that you might never regain all movement. It's nothing to do with muscling through it."

"Because the muscles aren't there?"

"In this case, yes. And the nerves are too damaged to realign. So you'll still spasm and twitch and have pain in the middle of the night but it could be so much worse John." Gwen studied his face. 'Please believe you're doing much better than you think you are. From where you were when you started you're leaps and bounds ahead of that."

"It's good to remember." John rubbed at his leg and nodded toward the tank. "I'd like a go in there, clear my head."

"Just as long as you're not going to drown yourself."

Gwen used her hands on his chair to push off and stand in one smooth movement. She bent to touch the screen on the side before pushing the lid off the tank. The hint of chlorine to the smell of water tickled a familiar memory in John's mind and in a moment he saw every time he climbed in and out of that tank.

"I've been thinking about having one of these for my flat." John dragged his leg a bit as he approached the tank, needlessly testing the water. "Kind of like that bad _Daredevil_ movie."

"You're not a blind man with superpowers who needs to sleep without the world interrupting him." Gwen offered John her hand but he shook his head, tugging off his shirt. She took it as John stepped over the edge and into the water. "And remember, no trying to hold your breath. I set the sensor to immediately open this thing if you do."

"I'm not going to drown myself for suicide." John settled in the water, floating in the salinized liquid. "I've no interest in spending three minutes choking for air."

"Don't think I'm an idiot. I know you were SBS and you can hold your breath for five minutes."

"Not anymore."

"Don't lie to me." Gwen put her hands on the lid, kneeling on the edge of the floor. "Twenty minutes and you're out. Okay?"

"You're the one about to get her name on the door." John grinned and closed his eyes as the tank turned dark.

The weakest emission of light came from the corners of the lid but John closed his eyes again. All he could hear, through the slight lap of the water, was his breathing. It echoed and warped to engulf him but John pushed his head under the water and his hands to the side of the tank to hold himself only long enough for the thump of his blood to take over his senses.

As it did he allowed himself to float up, arms out as far as he could and legs spread, losing himself in the gentle lap of the water as it created eddies around him. The water soon drown out everything but the echo of his thoughts in his brain and John ran through him quickly. But there, unbidden, came the memory of reaching out.

 _There he was but he was older. No longer the little boy scurrying over the banisters with ease but an old man clutching his cane. He hobbled forward, the cane catching in the old, pitted carpet and John stumbled. Falling sideways, the breath knocked out of him as he hit the bannister. His cane fell and when he reached for it John could hear shouts._

 _Or was it one shout. John gripped the bannister and used it to move forward but each step ground at the pain in his leg until he could move no farther. His knees hit the stone to shot pain up his body and almost overwhelmed his brain. Gritting his teeth to get through it, John crawled along but found an intricately decorated and cut gate blocking his path._

 _John wrapped his fingers through the few exposed bars and tried to use it for leverage to help rise to his feet. But it was as if something pressed him deeper and deeper into the floor. He tried to turn but the pressure shoved him to cough and splutter on the floor with the only view the one available through the supports for the railings._

 _There he watched a body fall from the bannister, crying out for him all the way down._

John's eyes opened in a flash and his fist beat against the lid of the tank on instinct. It immediately drew back and Gwen drove an arm through the water to catch his wrist and give her a touch of leverage to have him sitting up so his coughing and wheezing would not suck water into his lungs. Her fingers and hands moved over him quickly before Gwen helped him out of the tank.

"I think twenty minutes was too long for you today."

"I'm fine."

"All evidence to the contrary."

"I just fell asleep."

"And now you know not to do that again." Gwen checked her watch, "You've got enough time for a quick rinse before you're done for the day."

"I'll do that." John also took Gwen's offered hand and lifted from the tank. He stumbled on the floor but she helped him into the shower stall and waited as he rinsed quickly. He took the offered clothes and tried to smile, "Sorry about that."

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, if you'll believe it." Gwen tapped the fingers of one hand on the arm of the other as they crossed her chest. "John, do you remember the time I hinted that maybe the problems could also be internal?"

"My other doctor says my blood pressure is the best it's ever been."

"I'm sure it is." Gwen smiled and John stood, buttoning his shirt and tucking it into his pants before grabbing for his belt. "But I mean internal as in mental."

"You're talking about psycho symptomatic?"

"Yes." Gwen flexed her jaw, "What if part of your block in the healing process is whatever you've got buried up here."

John waited for her finger to stop tapping his damp forehead to shrug. "You said my leg won't get better than it is. The muscle just isn't there and-"

"I'm talking holistic health, not just the prime nature of the body." Gwen sighed, "Sometimes we're so convinced what we can see is crucial we forget those things that really cause all the problems."

"The brain's good at forgetting it exists."

"As the only organ to name itself you think it'd be better at it." Gwen grinned and handed over his cane. "I'll see you next week John."

"Always a pleasure Ms. Dawson."

John left the room and turned back to say something to Gwen. As he did something bumped into him from behind and he leaned on his cane to regain his balance. The person's hands flew out, grabbing his shirt for a second, and their eyes met.

He would have recognized the blue there anywhere. Her fingers immediately disengaged and the smile that split her face wide could have lit up more rooms than John set foot in if his whole life were complied into a moment. Helping her take a step back, she laughed. "Seems one good turn deserved another."

"Sorry?"

"Just now you stopped me falling and, on the train a few weeks ago, I stopped your bag hitting the floor." She shrugged, "Seems the universe wanted balance."

"Then isn't it my fortune the universe was so generous?" John extended a hand, "Since we weren't properly introduced last time, John Bates."

"The actor, I remember." She shook his hand. "I'm Anna."

"Just Anna? No last name?"

"There are cultures in the world where you take the last name of your father." Anna teased as they moved toward the door, John opening it for her. "That way you're always referencing your family line."

"Then what family line do I reference when speaking of the botanical scientist from Cambridge?"

Anna paused, her eyes narrowing but the twinkle keeping John reassured. "Did you look me up, Mr. Bates?"

"I might've done a bit of research into the lovely scientist who was so generous with her smiles and her aid to me on the train." John walked with her, "I thought about sending you flowers as a thank you but I wasn't sure you'd remember."

"How could I forget the actor traveling from a murder mystery party in Germany?" Anna kept pace with him, her shorter legs at ease in the stride set by his clacking cane. "I don't often meet people with those kinds of friends."

"We're an odd and tightly knit bunch." John took a deep breath, "And you keep dodging the question."

"It's a rather plain name, to be honest, but it's mine." Anna took a deep breath, "Smith. I'm Anna Smith."

"Don't you mean you're _Doctor_ Anna Smith?"

She shuddered, "I tend not to use my title in public. It causes some people to immediately get their hackles up about the possibility of an intellectual telling them how to live their lives and everyone else just thinks I'm looking for a way to one-up then in their occupations."

"Are you?"

"In all honesty, I've no interest in anyone's life but my own. I don't do Instagram or Twitter or even Facebook really because I can't stand to worry about other people's lives like that." She stopped near the Tube station, "Except, I think, I'd be interested to learn more about yours."

"Should I be worried or flattered?" John grinned at her and Anna laughed, pushing hair behind her ear in what he hoped was a nervous tick.

"Flattered, I hope."

"A beautiful woman asking to learn more about me couldn't be more flattering."

"You think I'm beautiful?" Anna teased and John put a hand to his chest.

"I should hope you're not digging for compliments you'd only need to ask me to give you." They both stopped, staring at one another. "Though I hope whatever you find interesting about me I could return with questions of my own."

"I'd be disappointed if it were otherwise." She pointed, "There's a lovely little place just across the square there. If you're interested in food."

"It's my second great love."

Anna frowned, "What's the first?"

"Sleep."

She laughed and they walked toward the little restaurant and Anna waved to the woman behind the counter before guiding them to a table. "This is the place I come anytime I'm in London."

"With a city as big as this you stay near this place?" John shrugged as Anna raised an eyebrow. "It's nothing to do with what I believe'll be food as high of quality as yourself but there's a whole city where you can eat food from anywhere and you limit yourself to one spot?"

"I can see your second favorite love coming to bear."

"Second great love," John wagged a finger at her but neither of them could keep the laughter out of their voices. "And it's why I love living in this city."

"Well I live in Cambridge and this city scares me a bit."

"You don't seem the type to scare easily." John leaned back in his chair, "What makes it so scary?"

"The paradox of choice." Anna smiled at the waitress, "We'll take two of the surprise specials and your lovely raspberry lemonade."

John waited until the waitress left. "Don't I get a choice?"

"Not really." Anna winked at him. "I wanted to make sure we weren't dithering over food when we've other things to discuss."

"Yes," John dramatically slapped the table. "You had questions for me."

"You make it sound like an interrogation."

"Maybe it is."

Anna snorted her laugh, "I never trained for that. But I've withstood more than a few professional reviews and presentations so I think I can bear it."

"I thought you were questioning me." John pursed his lips to exaggerate his confused face. "Is that not what we're doing?"

"We're talking with one another about ourselves." Anna opened her hands to him, "For starters, what brings you to Mrs. Hughes's rehabilitation clinic?"

"My leg." John tapped it with his cane. "I almost got it blown off once and the surgeries afterward made it a little awkward for movement."

"What happened?"

"I'm counting that as two questions now."

"Nope, follow-ups don't count."

"They don't?" John let his lip twitch, "Then I'll make sure I've nothing but follow-ups."

Anna whipped at him with her napkin. "You're not playing fair."

"You started it." John deflected the napkin, "But it was our convoy in Bosnia. We hit a car bomb and half of the car was practically vaporized and I was thrown from the other half. It took part of the leg closest to the explosion and all the surgeries after that were to assess the muscle damage and make sure my nerves still worked."

"Do they?" Anna covered her mouth, "Sorry, I know that's three."

"They do. I'm still missing significant muscle there so if I took off my trousers you'd see more dips and valleys in the skin than you're supposed to have but it still works alright."

"Isn't medicine incredible?" Anna whistled, "I know it must've hurt and I don't want to sound like I'm diminishing your suffering but, still… to walk after something like that would've been impossible even twenty years ago."

"It was almost impossible now but they worked miracles." John resettled in the chair. "What about you? Why don't you work in medicine?"

"It wasn't my field."

"But botanical sciences was?"

"Do you know what you can do with botanical sciences?"

John held up a finger, "I don't have to take that as a question but I will since it usually means someone's trying to get me to buy something 'healthy' that'll cost me three times market value in a multi-level marketing scheme."

Anna shrugged, "That's fair and I've been to my share of Tupperware parties so I do understand it. But no, what I studied has to do with crop hybridization."

"You mean like special strains of wheat?"

"It could be." Anna smiled and leaned back for the waitress to leave their food for them. "I'm working on drought resistant crops since rainfall has decreased dramatically in the last ten years but we've more people to feed now."

"So you're growing them bigger and stronger so we can breed more?"

Anna snorted into her drink, "I'm sure 'breeding' is something you only do with animals and crops but if you're concerned about breeding then there's a whole section of the chemist's called 'family planning'."

"Been there a few times." John sighed at his plate, "Please tell me what this is."

"Jalapeño poppers on the side of what I guarantee will be the best burrito you've ever had." Anna took one of her deep fried pieces. "I thought you suggested you were adventurous."

"I take that as a personal injury and raise you two of these." John held up two of the poppers. "And I am adventurous."

"Where's the best place you've ever been?"

"Not the most adventurous thing I've ever done?"

Anna winked at him, taking a bit of her burrito, "There's time for that question."

"Yes there is."


	5. The Shared Celebration

John swiped his hand closer to hers and their fingers touched a moment. On the next brush he intertwined them and glanced quickly to the side as a smile came over her face. "So you never told me why you were at the rehab clinic."

"I needed to use the tank to think and I was here for a conference anyway."

"Rooms full of scientists?"

"I didn't have to present this time so it was very nice." Anna shrugged, "I've got a big project on my plate at the moment that not only has a lot of money already invested in it but has the potential to bring in much more and there's a not undue amount of pressure involved with that."

"I can understand wanting some time to yourself after that."

"Which leads me to my question," Anna pivoted to stand in front of him. "What brought you to the clinic?"

"The leg injury. Been working with them for a long time to get range of motion back."

"You don't need the tank for that."

"There's a mental component." John tapped his forehead. "My therapist there says I've got to clear the mental block to get at all the little physical parts of my injury."

"What do you think the mental block is?"

John shrugged, "Could be any number of things."

"Now it's a guessing game." Anna grinned, moving back to his side as they took another turn around the path in the park. "What does an actor who goes to murder mystery parties in Germany have to work through he couldn't get out on stage?"

"You think the stage is that easy?"

"I think the stage offers a lot of ways to express oneself."

"Says the scientist."

"I've used a stage." Anna put a hand to her chest, exaggerating her reactions of offense. "You don't think presenting a paper is a kind of performance?"

"I didn't realize we were talking about all stages of life."

" _All the world's a stage._ "

" _And the people merely players_." John smiled, "I know the Bard well."

"He's popular." Anna sighed, "Probably because he was a chameleon who understood the human condition in a way no one else ever has or will."

"Have you so little faith in your fellow man?"

"We live in an age of recognition where people want everyone to notice them to the point of flaunting everything for everyone to see. We're not trying to understand one another. We're too busy shouting over everyone to be heard and making sure we've got the most 'Likes' on Facebook or Instagram."

"And you don't think that says anything about the human condition?"

"I think it says a great deal about the human condition." Anna snorted, "I just don't like what it says."

"And yet humanity is worth saving."

"I'm an optimist, Mr. Bates, and I believe whole-heartedly that there is hope."

"Are you a dreamer of far-flung dreams too?"

"I'm a fan of _Doctor Who_ , if that answers your question." Anna grinned, pulling to a stop. "Although I think we've both beaten around the bush long enough."

"How'd you mean?"

"I mean that I'd like to take… this, back to my place for a nightcap."

"I don't drink alcohol."

"Then I'll make you some tea or coffee or something and I'll have the nightcap. Either way," Anna pulled at his hand, their interlaced fingers tugging him along. "I'd like this to go in another direction."

"In a more… bedroom friendly direction?"

"Maybe." Anna shrugged, a grin coming over her face. "I don't often make decisions like this but since we'll probably never see one another again I can't see the harm in making this kind of offer."

"It is a nice offer." John sucked the inside of his cheek. "But it's a step I can't make if I'm not being honest with you and I feel that might be difficult."

"Honest how?"

"My mental bock isn't entirely a mystery to me." John slipped his fingers from hers. "There was someone, a long time ago, who died because I couldn't save them and it's a haunting thought."

"I see." Anna folded her arms over her chest, her eyes focusing on the ground and her face increasingly unreadable in the shadows of the night and the harsh angles of the florescent lights. "Then I've not been entirely honest with you either."

"Is this the moment you tell me there's a boyfriend and he's twice my size and I might end up with broken kneecaps?"

"Andrea was six months ago." Anna laughed with him before shaking her head. "No, it's more to do with why I'm asking you back to mine when we've known one another for… Six hours."

"And why is that?"

"I've got a big event when I get back to Cambridge and the more I've thought about it the more I realize I'm alone with it and I don't like the feeling."

"I don't understand."

"Have you ever had something exciting happen and you wanted to share it with someone but you couldn't because there was no one around or because you realized no one would understand?"

"Of course."

"It's like that except this is the culmination of five years of work and… And I need a way to celebrate with someone who's more than an after-hours club shag in the loo."

"You risked that?"

"When I was at University."

"You're still at University… Technically speaking of course."

Anna gave him a quick glare. "Point is, I feel… I don't know, like we've got some sort of rudimentary connection and I'd like to take advantage of that."

"And me, as it seems."

"Yes, if you're amenable." Anna moved closer to him, taking his hand with hers. "I want to feel I can share a fraction of the excitement and nerves and elation I've got about this project with someone in the most basic way I know how and… And I've got you right here."

"Not sure you chose well with that."

"I think I chose just fine." Anna looked into his eyes and John swallowed, wondering if you could feel someone stealing your soul. "I feel closer to you in a single moment than I've felt to anyone else in my entire life."

"It'll sound like I'm full of shit if I say I feel the same way."

"But you do?"

"I feel…" John stopped himself, a host of thought flooding his mind before he satisfied himself kissing Anna knuckles. "I feel like you, Ms. Smith, could have the power to take away every costume and disguise I've ever worn and show me who I really am."

"And who is that?"

"I don't know. I don't think I've ever really met him."

Anna's thumb moved over the back of his hand. "Perhaps I could help you meet him for a moment tonight then?"

"I think I'd like that." John ran his tongue over his lips, "Do you want to go back to yours?"

"I think that'd be best. Keeps it… less personal."

"I thought you wanted it to be personal."

"I do but if you-"

"I want that." John closed his eyes, noting the widening of her eyes at the speed of his response. "I'm sorry I'm just-"

Anna moved onto her tiptoes, the hold of her free hand wrapped the back of his neck, and the next thing John knew her lips were on his. He froze under her but when she tried to pull back from her decision his free hand cupped the back of her neck and kissed her back. The fingers of their other hands remained intertwined as they tried to move closer and continue the kiss.

But John's cane caught on a rock and Anna released him fast enough to stop the two of them tumbling to the ground. They froze for a second and then giggled together. She dipped to catch the dropped cane and put it back in his right hand.

"I'll guess that's a yes."

"Yes." John grinned at her, risking his fingers from hers to push back a strand of hair from her face. "But yours is probably best since mine is about as sparse as a shop during an emergency."

"Not much of a hoarder are you?"

"I don't have much I enjoy." John cringed, "If I talk anymore I'll put you off."

"I doubt it." Anna slipped her arm through his and steered them back toward the street. "I save almost everything to the point I need serious intervention from my friend to help me clear it all out."

"Keep all your ticket stubs do you?"

"It's more that I forget I never got rid of them. They stack up in corners and on tables and under shelves when I'm not looking." Anna laughed, "I think they're organizing when I'm not around."

"Where you the child who watched _Toy Story_ and thought the toys actually were alive?"

"Of course." Anna raised her hand for a cab. "Unless you'd rather walk."

"Given how many times we went around the park I think my therapist might say I push myself too hard." John opened the door for Anna to climb in and then followed her. "But I think you're wrong about something."

"And what would that be?"

"That you think we'll never see each other again." John pulled her close to whisper in her ear. "I don't think I could let you get away that easily."

Anna shivered and then leaned up to address the driver. "Marriott at Maida Vale thank you."

They did not speak, their fingers weaving and sliding over one another as they tried to keep their motions inconspicuous in the back seat. But John risked a run of his finger near the seam of her jeans and Anna's shiver only encouraged him further. Her hand did not remain idle, settling on his thigh and moving toward his pockets. When she slipped her hand into his pocket John almost jumped in his seat. He looked at her face but Anna kept her expression to a smile, her eyes forward.

The cab pulled to the hotel and John held the door for Anna while she swiped her card. A moment later she joined him on the pavement, grinning as she took his arm and led him into the hotel. "You've got an incredible amount of self-control."

"I was in the Army you know."

"Of course, Bosnia." Anna sobered, "Is that ever part of your mental block?"

"Surprisingly I don't have PTSD from that." John mused, their paces matching as Anna led them to the lifts.

"Just from the person you couldn't save?"

"The mind's a funny thing." John let her push the button, leaning on his cane. "When I was thrown from the car I just saw myself as her, when she fell."

"Who was she?" John blinked and Anna hurried to speak, leading them into the lifts at the same time. "You just said you saw yourself as her when she fell. I'll assume the person you lost was a woman."

"She was in the same orphanage as me, growing up." John sucked the inside of his cheek. "She fell over the bannister and they didn't have safety nets."

"I'm so sorry." Anna put a hand to his shoulder, freezing a moment as the lift doors opened. "If you're-"

"Ms. Smith," John put a hand forward, holding the doors open. "It's a mental block, not a cockblock."

"Did you just-?" Anna snorted a laugh, "I can't believe you just said that."

"You asked and I wanted to be honest. It doesn't mean it's going to stop me fulfilling the potential of the evening to the best of my ability. And, in case you were wondering," John leaned down to whisper past her ear, "The injury doesn't stop anything significant."

"Full range of motion?"

"It'll make quick changes a bit difficult but adrenaline can be my friend." John opened his hand toward the corridor. "After you Ms. Smith."

"If we're about to take this where we're going I think we should seriously consider calling one another by our first names."

"There's an art to using formal terms."

"Just as long as it's not about boosting your ego."

John let his mouth open, echoing her earlier expression of exaggerated offense. "I wouldn't dare suggest that kind of play until at least the third date."

Anna pulled her keycard from her pocket, sliding it into the door to open it. "You're assuming we're getting a third date."

"I guess we'll see if I'm worth a repeat performance." John paused at the doorway as Anna entered. "I'll have you know right now, I'm clean and safe."

"Me too." Anna waved her hand forward, pulling her shoes off and tossing them to a corner. "Unless you're a vampire you should cross the threshold."

"It's polite to wait for permission." John crossed over, closing the door behind him and getting rid of his shoes and socks like she had. "And if I were a vampire explain how I saw you in the daylight."

"Maybe you're not conventional." Anna ran her tongue over her lips. "I do encourage that we stay to… more traditional modes of pleasure, in case you were interested."

"So me on top, as quietly as possible, and with the lights off?" John dodged her swipe at him. "I'll assume you're talking about the kinkier side of things."

"I'm not a fan of them." Anna stood close to him, shuffling a bit. "I'll admit, I'm not sure how to start this without being a tab tipsy or without some kind of…"

John leaned his cane against the wall and stepped forward to hold her face carefully in his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

"I trust that."

"Then I'm going to kiss you and we'll see where the mode takes us from there." John waited, his lips a breath from hers.

"I'd like that."

Their lips met and John caressed her cheeks with his fingers before shifting back to run them through her hair. She bent her head with the motion, John leaning over to try and capture more of her mouth before running his tongue over the edge of her lips. Anna opened to him and teased his tongue with her teeth before meeting him with her own tongue.

John's back hit the wall as she pressed against him while her hands gripped the back of his neck to hold herself as close to him as possible. Anna shifted, the buttons on their shirts catching on one another and forcing them apart for a moment. Both of them giggled a minute, fingers swiftly trying to undo the other's buttons faster and faster as their arms intertwined and they eventually ran their hands over the exposed skin, and then their breath caught.

Anna's eyes rolled back into her head as John glided over her stomach and toward her encased breasts. Her fingers pushed over his skin, finding the hints of scars on the right side of his body. She leaned forward, blocking John's view for a moment, and laid kisses to each of them to work back toward his neck. Her tongue licked around his collarbone and he caught her mouth as the shivers of pleasure rushed through his body.

Risking a step forward, John maneuvered them toward the bed, the cuffs of their shirts loosening so the fabrics could intertwine on the floor. John's fingers tickled and stroked around her bra, kneading and massaging her through the material until she forced one of his hands toward the clasps. He snapped the hooks and Anna flung it away from them to leave her exposed to him. Her breath caught as his did but a brush of his fingers against her relaxed them both.

Now it was his turn to bend his head and kiss over her. He forged trails over her collar, the dip between her breasts, and then over them. John's tongue found even the slightest indentations left there after a day of wearing her bra and sought to soothe them. She ran her fingers into his hair, holding him closer and leaning back to land them as softly as possible on the bed.

John took advantage of the position to better adore her breasts, sucking at one the pull the nipple into his mouth. When her nails dug into his scalp he nipped at her until she moaned. His other hand kneaded and massaged, switching between the two until Anna writhed under him.

He shuffled back slightly, kissing down her body to her jeans and releasing her from their hold. His lips took on the obligation of memorizing her, his fingers pulling and tugging at her jeans until he huffed in frustration. Anna laughed until he grabbed the cuffs of her jeans to yank them down her legs in one move. The air left her lungs in a rush and then only came in pants as John kissed his way back up her body to where her knickers hung low on her hips.

"Do you mind?" John ran his tongue under the line of her knickers.

"Not if you're about to do what I think you're about to do."

"I'm going down on you." John hooked his fingers under the elastic and pulled the knickers down her legs to flick them off to the side. "So you might want to get comfortable."

Anna shuffled up the bed and nodded at John. "How comfortable are you going to be in those jeans?"

"Not as comfortable as this." John shucked them down his legs, his boxers falling with them. "Unless you're intimidated."

"Excited, actually." Anna laid back on the pillows, leaving her legs open. "But I think you promised me something."

"I did." John slid his hands along her legs to push them a bit wider so his shoulders would fit. "But I changed my mind."

"What?" Anna leaned forward and then back as John held at her hips to glide her over the bed cover so his knees could rest on the floor and her legs rested on his shoulders.

"Better access." John waited as she grabbed a pillow for her head. "Now I'm going to eat you out."

"Holy shit." Anna moaned at the first brush of his lips against her clit.

John's tongue worked between her folds, sweeping up in long strokes before wrapping over her clit to suck there. Her legs tightened around his head and her fingers found their way into his hair to drag him where she wanted him and to grip hard enough to gouge into his skin. But John was too consumed trying to taste every bit of her. Each lap of his tongue brought more from her and promised more in return until John finally worked his tongue into her opening.

Anna's keens and moans set his pace, slowing him to the point of agonizing temptation only to speed up and add his fingers as a way to leave her gasping and panting above him. When he worked his second finger inside her, mouth fastening around her clit to overwhelm her with sensations, John triggered the tightening of her walls. His fingers struggled past the grip, dragging along a bit of rough skin before crooking inside her to reach more, and Anna climaxed around him.

He continued, licking and kissing as she calmed, and noted the tremor still quivering through her thighs as they gripped around his head. Tremors he wanted to continue as he teased her open for a third finger and swirled his tongue closer to her clit again. Anna's breath caught, her voice a series of half-words and muttered phrases until she shrieked her second finish.

With slow and steady strokes he worked her down from the high, easing from the grip of her walls and her legs to help slide her back up to the head of the bed. John reset the pillows and made sure Anna rested against them before moving. She caught his wrist, pulling his fingers toward her mouth and sucked them dry to echo the reaction in John's mouth. He bent over, kissing her immediately to find the rest of her taste there and spreading more with his tongue until her leg caught over his hip.

"Table." She muttered and John flailed a moment for the drawer only to touch his hands over the Bible in the drawer. Anna laughed and broke from the kiss to reach for the other table, pulling a makeup kit there toward her. She worked through it to find the package and knocked the bag off the bed as John grabbed the package. "Hurry."

"No romance?" John teased, kissing over her neck while her fingers raked furrows down his back and her hips jerked toward his to run her slick lips over his length.

"Later." Her fingers stopped, touching over his scars and down toward his leg. They fell into the divots and followed the ridges as John's lips slowed on her neck. He raised his head to look at as she lifted her eyes to his. "Beautiful."

John took her lips again, rolling the condom up his erection and then driving forward. His hand went to her thigh, opening her slightly and pulling it tighter around his waist so he could thrust as deeply into her as possible. He bottomed out and Anna groaned, pushing her head back into the pillows hard enough to arch her neck. He attacked there, kissing and sucking a line of red marks there while his hips pressed and rutted forward.

Anna held him tighter, her lips meeting his occasionally before breaking away to suck air or leave her own line of defining marks over his skin. Her other leg bent toward her body and then wrapped around his waist so her hips tilted. John almost faltered at the sounds Anna made as he now hit her clit with every drive of his body into hers. Every motion bringing them closer and closer until John was sure they would have to become a single body just to finish.

But Anna's hand dug into the flesh of his ass while the other slipped between his legs to brush over his sack. He grunted, releasing into her in a rush of stuttering limbs and a frenetic energy that almost turned into artless flailing. As the haze settled on his mind, he flicked his fingers over her to bring Anna over the edge one more time. She cried out and clutched John closer as his body finally lost all the energy he had.

They lay together for a moment until John found the strength to slip away. He disposed of the condom and then lay back on the open space of the bed as Anna spread out of the other side. Her laugh had him turning to see her face.

"I don't think I've had that many in one sitting before."

"Never?"

"Nope."

"Then whomever you had before didn't understand how it works." John sighed, his eyes closing. "Would you think it too personal if I asked to stay until I had enough energy to move?"

"I'd like you to stay the night." Anna leaned over, brushing some of his hair away from his forehead. "If you want."

"Will it interrupt your check out time?"

"No." She smiled at him, kissing his forehead and then down to his cheek. "I'm not heading back until the afternoon. We could even do breakfast."

"I'd like that." John found her hand, intertwining their fingers. "I'd like that very much."


	6. The Breakfast Date

John kissed over her shoulder blades as Anna shifted closer to him. She groaned and he laughed against her skin, enjoying how the vibrations had her shivering. "If this is how you're waking me up then please continue."

"You had said you wanted breakfast," He paused, teething at the base of her neck before wrapping around to trail up to her ear. "I could get us room service."

"You mean that I'll get you room service." Anna stretched her back over his chest to loop an arm over his shoulders. "It is my room, after all."

"I could pay for it." John kissed under her chin as his hand glided down her side and over her thigh. "It's the gentlemanly thing to do."

"Because you stayed the night in my bed?"

"Because I had sex with you in this bed and then stayed the night."

"Then you've got a much higher standard compared to the other men I've invited to bed before." Anna almost laughed but her voice caught as John's fingers snuck between her legs. "Shit."

"Language." John chided, flicking his tongue between kisses along her jaw. "I'd hate to think that's what you'd say in one of your fancy seminars."

"I learned it from my students." Anna rocked toward his fingers, forcing them deeper into her.

"Really?" John stroked his fingers along her folds while his middle finger opened her. "I guess I need to spend more time in upper level studies. Imagine what I'd learn."

"I can promise they couldn't teach you this." Anna's fingers tightened in his hair and her knuckles went white where they clutched the equally colored sheet. "This only comes with practice."

"Not to brag but…" John let his laugh rumble over the skin of her shoulders, kissing there in time with the work of his hand until he added another finger. "Although, you're probably my favorite."

"Why's that?"

"You're the wettest I've ever had."

"Shit."

"And the most vocal." John slotted his knee between her legs, opening her further to help as her hips pushed onto his fingers. "Which I appreciate."

"I believe in constructive feedback." Anna tugged the sheet in her hand, practically ripping it from the bed. "Helps with improved performance at a later date."

John slowed the progress of his hand, shifting ever so gently against her without adding the requisite pressure to do anything more than tease her. "Will there be a later date?"

"How often do you get up to Cambridge?"

"I'm sure I could get up there more often if I've got an open invitation."

"Why else would I bother to give you pointers?" Anna's hand abandoned the sheet and covered his right wrist, cascading over his fingers to guide him in the rhythm and speed she wanted. With her control and John's determination, both working to bring the passionate rose of her skin to a deep red, she came.

John let her settle, hot breath puffing against his arm as it slipped beneath her head, and massaged her through the quivering tremors of her climax. Her own fingers loosened, falling from his wrist to lay on the bed. It was almost too good to pass up and in a few minutes John had her floating on the endorphins of a second climax while his fingers drew out of her.

"You are, without doubt," Anna shifted slightly, her fingers flashing in the light from the window to taunt him with the shiny wrapper she dropped into his hand, "The most giving partner I've ever had."

"I'm also clean so you don't have to worry." John tore the package open and worked the condom on before bringing Anna close enough to kiss. "Do you mind the position?"

"No."

John ran his hand down her leg, lifting it back over his hip to position himself against her, and held for a moment. When she turned her face to his, John kissed her and thrust forward at the same time. Her nails dug into the base of his scalp, tugging on his hair in time with his drives into her, and his hand took position on her leg to leave her open to him.

Each rocking motion had him bottoming up until John almost bit his lip trying to keep himself from finishing first. Her sounds, interspersed with the kissing she rained on his lips and cheek, filled his ears like the melody of a song the beat in his blood knew. And soon, with her fingers flicking against him while trying to bring herself over the edge, John finished.

They sagged together, breathing hard as they surrendered to the inevitable post-coital haze. John eventually rolled to his back and off the bed, staggering slightly on his way to the bathroom, but returned to see Anna staring at the ceiling. He snorted a laugh and she turned her head to frown at him.

"Something you want to say?"

"I'm just admiring a work of art."

"I'm sure I look the picture." Anna pushed herself to sit up, the sheets tangling about her waist.

"The only question is which one."

"I'm sure that answer isn't one you should post on the wall of an art museum." John frowned and Anna laughed, "It'd be titled 'Woman, Post Coitus'."

"They won't know what that means."

"They'll know it if I use the other word for it." She pointed to the phone on the bedside table. "Were you still interested in breakfast?"

"Very much so." John padded over to the list, plucking it out of the drawer before Anna could find it. "I think we should go for the works."

"Planning on building up an appetite?"

"Pretty sure I already did." John sat on the bed between Anna and the table, grabbing the phone from its cradle and dialing the number while looking over the list. "Yes, this is room two-ten and I'd like to put in an order for breakfast."

"And what's on your mind to order sir?"

"I'd like the full English breakfast with two Earl Greys please. And I think we'll go-" He paused, voice catching in his throat as Anna's hand settled near his thigh and started stroking along his leg.

"Sir?"

"Sorry," John cleared his throat, trying to scowl at Anna but she only winked and started kissing over his neck, her hand shifting ever closer to the prize between his legs. "Yes, an order of the chocolate pancakes, probably the stuffed…"

His voice caught again as Anna pushed him back onto the bed, her lips tracking the musculature of his upper body as her hand finally wrapped around him. John closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing to stop himself bucking into her grip immediately. "The stuffed waffles, the peach ones, with an extra side of whipped cream."

"Anything else sir?"

"Water. We'll take about four bottles of whatever water you've got. Thank you." John tried to hang up the phone but Anna caught it and put it back in position. She turned back to him, licking her lips as John shook his head. "You're horrible."

"You don't mean that." She straddled his legs, hands smoothing over his torso before raking back own toward his hips. "You can't possibly mean that."

"I was on the phone."

"And now you're not." Anna lowered herself, skimming down his legs to let her hands move over his scars. "Which I think is a much better position."

"Is it?" John sucked in a breath as she placed a kiss near where he started to rise to the occasion. "Holy shit."

"Language," She trilled, darting her tongue out to taste him. "And of course it is. This gives me the chance to be gracious."

"Is it really gracious when you're driving me insane?"

"All's fair in love and war."

"Is that what this is?" John titled his head to meet Anna's eyes as her hand took over holding him, tightening to send his eyes rolling back into his head. "Sweet Christmas."

"Not quite but I can give you a present all the same." Her breath blew over him, flaring his already heated blood and swiftly sending him straight up. "And I believe that there's one happiness in life: to love and be loved."

"I'm sure George Sand didn't mean it in terms of sex."

"Why not?" Anna licked over him. "It's a kind of love."

"I thought you were going to be gracious."

"Oh I am." Anna drew back a moment, "Because I also believe you should be pretty if you can-"

"You've got that down."

Anna clicked her teeth at him, "Flattery'll get you everywhere."

"I'm just hoping it'll get me off."

"See, you've already got the second part." Anna let her fingers dance over his sack, tightening the muscles in his legs as John tried to pull air into his starving lungs. "Be witty if you must."

"Is that all?"

"No, Ms. Elsie de Wolfe's last piece of advice was this," Anna positioned her mouth right over him. "Be gracious if it kills you."

"It'll kill me." John grabbed the sheets and tugged them as tightly as he could as Anna sucked him down.

Colors blinked behind his eyes and John tried to find a solid purchase in an increasingly unstable world. One where he struggled to control himself when all of his instincts were to thrust unreservedly into the cavern of her mouth. Her motions replicated the earlier reactions of her body, tightening and tugging him with determined muscles that clung to him. Ones that, for all the finesse of her tongue, did not match his preferred location.

For one thing, he could not kiss her like this.

John risked a hand to her hair, focusing on the one thought of change in position to keep himself from finishing far too quickly, and she paused. Without words he tried to urge her up, closer to him, and Anna responded by dragging the flat of her tongue over him. His hips bucked and Anna crawled carefully over them with a foil packet between her teeth.

Dragging it over him, so slowly he was sure he did it on purpose, Anna positioned herself and sank down on him. As she settled the phone rang. Both of them froze, Anna tipping back to reach for the handset and successfully changing their angle to drive him directly against the spot inside her. Her fingered whitened over the phone and it quivered in her hand as she forced it to her ear.

"Hello?"

John let his hands drag over her, grinning when she jumped as his fingers played over her breasts. The muffled conversation from the other end of the phone only made him careful as he rose up to place delicate kisses over her breasts. He shifted them slightly, noting the scrunch of Anna's eyes when his feet touched the floor and he could use the leverage to move inside her more easily.

"Yes. Yes, that'll be fine. Thank you." John sucked one of her nipples, his fingers snaking between them to brush her clit while his other hand squeezed her ass. "As soon as you can. Thank you."

She hung up, the clack of the falling phone into its position setting the tempo of their encounter. Her nails raked over his shoulders and her knees dug into the mattress on either side of his hips to work him deeply inside her with each rotation and gyration. John continued his teasing kisses, nipping and sucking when she pressed herself closer to his lips, and allowed her fingers to lead him as her pleasure rose. A pleasure she brought crashing down on both of them when she tightened her vaginal muscles and leaned back enough to send her breasts bobbing before his eyes.

John collapsed back on the bed, gasping for air as Anna's weight landed on his chest. They lay, immovable, until a knock sounded at the door. Both their heads turned toward it and Anna smiled at John, brushing some loose hair from his forehead.

"I'll get that and you get this." She twisted her hips, sending another fizzle of pleasure through him. "Seems fair?"

"Fair enough." John managed, watching as she pulled herself off him and yanked one of the bathrobes off the hook to reach the door.

John stood, legs shaking under him, and disposed of another condom. His right leg twitched and he grabbed it, hand over the rugged skin pockmarked with evidence of his misadventure. He took a deep breath, massaging his knuckles deep into the muscle until it stopped quivering.

Reaching for another robe, but finding none, John snatched a towel. As he wrapped it around his waist he saw the shower and had to tramp down on the thoughts the glass walls and superfluous number of jets suggested. Adjusting the towel, John headed into the main room.

Anna set the tray on the table, one of her legs up on the chair she took to look out over the city. "It's marvelous isn't it?"

"I rather like it." John took the chair opposite her, pointing at the robe. "That was the only one you know."

"Fitting that I'm wearing it since it's my room."

"I guess." John pulled one of the plates closer and reached for one of the steaming cups. "Sad to be leaving it?"

"The city?" John nodded, blowing on his tea and taking a sip before adding a squeeze more of lemon. Anna shrugged, "It's wonderful and busy but I think it's mostly because I've almost never here."

"Work keeps you busy then?"

"I'm a research scientist managing a rather large grant." Anna nodded, "It's my life to be busy. I was lucky to get a few days off when everyone wants results."

"I'm sure you're giving them results."

"Not the ones they want when they want it." Anna sighed, "You'd think that my winning the Norman Borlaug World Food Prize would've been enough for them to let me take a brief sabbatical."

"What's that?"

"Big grant in the range of a quarter of a million dollars, American." Anna smiled at John's dropped jaw. "Call it the 'Nobel Peace Prize of Agriculture'"

"And they weren't impressed with that?"

"Not as impressed as I'd hoped they'd be." Anna cut into the stack of pancakes. "I hope you don't want any of these because I can put them all away myself."

"It's why I ordered the English breakfast." John motioned to it, "And there's extra whipped cream, if you want that too."

"How'd you know I've got an insatiable sweet tooth?"

"Three rounds with me seemed like indicator enough." John batted down the sugar packet she chucked at him. "I think it was the way you had to consciously stop yourself going into every sweet shop and bakery we passed yesterday that really did it for me."

"You noticed that?"

"I did." John cut into his eggs and tomatoes to mix the sauces and sop it up with a bit of toast. "No judgment either way."

"I'll take that." Anna chewed a moment and then nodded at him, "You were right, by the way."

"About?" John frowned, chewing slowly to try and remember what he might have said.

"It didn't stop you in the slightest."

John almost choked on his mouthful of tea, coughing into a napkin and trying to recover himself before speaking. "Well, I'll need to massage it later to make sure I haven't twisted anything."

"Be worth the effort though, wouldn't it?" Anna winked at him, digging into more of her pancakes. "Knowing you'd used it in such strenuous exercise."

"It's a much longed for situation, I'll tell you that." John sat back in his chair. "Just to clarify, I'm not stepping in on anyone's territory am I?"

"I did tell you I don't have a boyfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Anna laughed and John hurried to explain, "You did say 'Andrea' and while that could be a Russian man it can also be a woman and while I'm flattered you'd rebound with me-"

"I've never been one fascinated with the fairer sex, so rest easy on that count."

"No judgement if you had." John risked a smile, "It would explain your very talented tongue."

"That was practice on years of ice cream cones and bananas." John choked again, coughing into his napkin. "My, my Mr. Bates you are easily manipulated."

"It's not kind to torment a man of my age."

"You're not a hundred." Anna let her robe open slightly as she sat back. "And no, to put you at ease again, there's no boyfriend."

"You're sure?"

"It's rather hard to keep one when he'd just be my side piece in the face of my work." Anna squinted her eyes out the window, distracting herself with the city. "Very few of them can handle the hours and the uncertainty of working with someone who's first love is their research."

"None of them like being the mistress?"

"You'd think it'd keep the love alive when I'm basically sneaking away from my real husband to be with them." Anna laughed, "I'd imagine it like a torrid affair. Sneaking off in corners, managing a quickie in the office, things like that."

"You could still manage that."

"I'm all out of research assistants and graduate students." John's eyes widened, "Kidding. I'd never be that unethical. I usually picked them from the Maths department or the art school. Those boys… They had talented tongues."

"I'm feeling a little under appreciated."

"Don't." Anna shook her head, even giving a half-shudder. "They could only ever manage one at a time. And they needed all this direction just to do it right. Took them forever to understand it's 'give and take' not just 'take'."

"I guess the problem was that you were dating boys."

"Isn't that the truth." Anna flicked her eyes toward the whipped cream. "I've got some ideas for that."

"Not sure I've got the time, unfortunately." John checked the clock on the far wall. "I've got a meeting at noon."

"Shame." Anna pointed toward the shower. "It's yours to use if you need to."

"I was thinking," John drew his finger along the line of the table. "You might want to use it with me."

"It would conserve water."

"I'm trying to do my part for the environment." John stood up, walking toward the shower and removing his towel. "It's up to you."

"With that view how could I say no?"

John turned over his shoulder, hand to his chest in mock indignation. "Were you just evaluating my ass, Ms. Smith?"

"It's a nice one."

"I am so hurt that you think I'm a piece of meat."

"Please." Anna pushed back from the table, following him into the bathroom as he manipulated the jets for the shower. "Don't think I didn't notice you staring at my breasts when we were eating breakfast."

"Did you want me staring somewhere else?"

"I might've preferred my face but," Anna pushed him gently into the shower. "I'll make do."

Under the heat of the spray the glass steamed quickly. Quickly enough to slick Anna's skin as John went down on his knees to kiss every inch of her. With her back to the wall and her leg thrown over his shoulder, John managed to return the favor of her earlier attentions. His mouth worked over her, licking and sucking until she writhed and yanked at his hair. But he did not let up until she came around him. And when his fingers finally joined the efforts she came again.

Even with the question of his leg, John backed Anna to the wall. She held to his shoulders and jumped at his urging to wrap her legs around his waist. With the wall to counterbalance, John thrust forward and moved with her.

Though the water made it hard to grip one another, it also increased friction. It was all John could do to keep them working at a pace that hit those places that made Anna cry out. He worked for it, shunting his hips hard against hers as her voice urged him faster, deeper, and harder. Hard enough to give John the impression he would leave bruises from the force of the collision between them. And while he doubted, Anna's nails digging into his skin only urged him faster.

She fell before him and John finally loosed the tension to allow the pleasure to overcome him. They sank to the floor, almost slipping on the wet surface and giggling together as they recovered. After a moment Anna stood, taking charge of the shower, and soaped them both down. Even if she denied it, ardently against his lips, John was sure her attentions to his sack and erection were intentional. Intentional to give them another round.

"I'm sure," Anna rubbed herself down, toweling off before wrapping her hair in one of the smaller towels. "You're very proud of yourself."

"I'm not sure if you were counting but I had four this morning and, at my age, that shouldn't be possible."

"And there were at least three of mine to every one of yours so let's think about who needs to recuperate." Anna leaned back against the counter, wrapped once again in her robe. "Although we weren't as careful those times."

John paused, "I'm not sure that's something you need worry about."

"Really?" Anna motioned to herself. "I'm still in my prime so-"

"It's not-" John stopped himself, biting his lip. "I was married, for ten years, and we never had children."

"Never?"

John shook his head, "There was once I thought maybe but then she lost the baby and…" He snorted, "That was when it all went downhill really."

"I'm so sorry. That's horrible."

"Sarah and I were badly suited from the start. We just were too stubborn to realize it and when we did it felt like to late."

"But still. I spoke without thinking and-"

"Hey," John raised a hand. "You didn't know."

"I guess… I guess we don't know much about one another."

"Except that we're sexually compatible."

Anna snorted, nodding. "Not exactly a rousing endorsement but I guess I could go for it as a way to try and start a relationship."

"A relationship?"

"Not in a romantic sense." Anna laughed, "We mucked that order up a bit didn't we?"

"I'd say so."

Anna shrugged, "Then, for now, we'll just think of it in terms of the kind of relationship we want to have. We'll get to know one another see where it goes."

"With texting and email, like people do these days?"

"I was hoping we'd be a bit old fashioned about it all too but sure."

"Old fashioned?"

"Like letters and the like." Anna pointed at him, "I'm sure you've got magnificent handwriting."

"It's passable."

"Then that settles it." Anna left the bathroom and John followed her, tossing his towel back into the bathroom as he retrieved his boxers and trousers. She dug something from a bag and handed it over. "My address and relevant information."

John turned it over in his hand. "It's a business card."

"Disappointed?"

"Feels a bit professional."

"Then that's how we'll start." Anna checked the time. "You'd better get going if you're going to make your meeting."

"I can't find it in me to care much about that." John leaned over her, kissing gently at her lips before pulling away. "But it is my job."

"And those keep the lights on." Anna reached over to the table and grabbed the receipt from breakfast. "And pays for this."

"Yes." John tucked it into the same pocket with her card, gathering his shirt and other accouterments. "It was a date, after all."

"I'd hope so." Anna escorted him to the door, pulling his tie tight. "Thank you for a wonderful morning."

"It was my pleasure." John kissed her hand, "Multiple times."

"You shouldn't brag."

"I impressed myself." John reached for his cane, twirling it once before walking toward the lifts. "You'll get a letter soon."

"I hope so."

John smiled as the door closed.


	7. The Last Job

John pulled out the chair and sat across from the Mary as she narrowed her eyes at something in the paper in her hand. "Lovely morning?"

"It's passable." She folded the paper onto the table and nodded at him. "Yours?"

"Rather pleasant actually."

"Explains the afterglow on your face."

"Jealous?"

"That's not an emotion I often experience so, no." She dug into her bag and produced a folder. "Our mutual friend got us this."

"Are we going to keep speaking about him like we're being followed by spooks?"

"Safer that way."

John rolled his eyes, "If you say so."

"Don't act like you do this job better than me or that I'm somehow more paranoid than you about what we do."

"I wouldn't dare to suggest anything of the kind. Although, judging by your behavior I've been doing a lot longer than you have ." John studied her, "How old are you, exactly?"

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to ask impertinent questions?"

"Of course she did." John opened the folder to study the contents. "I'm asking a partner, that's different."

"Is it?" She narrowed her eyes at him a moment before speaking. "I'm in my early thirties."

"I guess I could've dated you with a song and seen where that got me." John held up the first page. "Is this the brief?"

"It's what our mutual friend discussed with you over the phone." Mary pointed at the paper. "Our client wants to acquire some budding technology being used in advanced plant hybridization."

"Not cold fusion?"

"The problems of the world are moving away from energy and toward more efficient food production." Mary took her tea and sipped at it, "This new technology will grow food in half the time, in half the space, using half the water, and with twice the current yields."

"I can read." John turned the page and frowned at the next paper. "Is this the initial research the scientists on the project published?"

"It's a draft they took to a conference six months ago when it was still theoretical." Mary reached over to thumb to the pages at the back of the folder. "This is the paper they'll be presenting the next chance they get as it was just released from peer review."

"You seem to know an awful lot about this particular subject." John tapped the pile of papers and shuffled through them, skimming for information. "Did you study biology at Uni?"

"I had a friend who was mad for it. She works in botanical sciences now but it's all the same to me."

"Then who's the target?" John turned to the last paper. "There are six names here and I'm sure if I have to rob every one of them then someone might put two and two together."

"Worried they'll see through you?"

"Worried I don't have enough disguises or convincing alter egos." John paused, "Did you know the CIA only allows their agents to work three identities at a time?"

"Not sure how that's relevant."

"There's a theory that if you're trying to juggle too many more personalities in your head at once then your brain might actually split and think the different parts of you are actually real you and you've developed multiple-personality disorder."

"I was sure they called that dissociative identity disorder."

"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to." John waved her off. "Still doesn't answer my question."

"Mr. Talbot's working on that."

"He's not got a target?"

Mary waved her hand, "Like you said, it's a delicate process. If this paper was written by six people then you've got to find who kept the research."

"You're assuming they didn't all keep a copy."

"In this day and age they probably put it all in the cloud so they could all access it anywhere. The authors are from at least four different universities and two of them are on different continents."

"Then we just need one person close enough to swipe a password."

"There could be other attachments involved with it you know. Other passwords and releases to allow a download of information by common consent."

"Do you work as a lawyer or something?"

"My husband does. Mostly business law but he's also certified in some areas for copyright and intellectual property law." Mary sighed, "How good are you at insinuating yourself into someone else's life? I'd hate to risk that we somehow only got ourselves a snatch and grabber."

John held up his cane. "This look very 'snatch-and-grab' to you?"

"I didn't know if the limp was function or fashion."

"Not function, if we're being specific, and certainly not fashion."

"There's a debonair quality to a cane."

"It's a trip hazard."

Mary shrugged, "Hasn't seemed to stop you yet."

John only hummed at her before closing the folder. "What's the play here?"

"Henry thinks we'd do well to impersonate researchers."

"Bad idea."

"That's what I told him." Mary dug a packet from her purse and handed it over. "When he finally locates one of the four living in this country that we can approach, we'll be going in as large investors."

"You think they'll go for that?"

Mary sucked the inside of her cheek, "I feel like I'm being put through the wringer for my good ideas."

"Who said anything about a wringer?"

"If you're not happy with my plan-"

"I never said-" John held up a hand, curling his fingers toward his palm. "You've misunderstood me, Mrs. Crawley."

"Have I?"

"You're going about this like we already know our marks."

"Don't we?"

John tapped the folder. "We've got six people here who used valuable research money and hours to double crop yields while halving the water usage. Does that sound like big business to you?"

"Sounds like big dollar investments."

"But that's the Universities to dole out and worry about when they're cutting their checks from patent money. I'm talking about the kind of people who get passionate enough about plants to make them faster, stronger, and better." John shook his head. "These people'll respect us as business people but they'll think we want to snatch them away from their tenure with promises of big bonuses and benefit programs."

"What's wrong with either of those?"

"Nothing but it's not what they want."

Mary crossed her arms over her chest. "And you get that from reading half of three pages of the whole file there?"

"I get that from the research they were doing in the first place." John snorted, "If they wanted to work for big companies or sell their research there, they wouldn't have become professors."

"No?"

"No." John shook his head. "The kinds of people who become professors have one of a few possible things."

"Such as?"

"Big hearts, for one. Professorships aren't the easiest to get and the slog through teaching and mentoring and assisting and every other step on that ladder is torturous."

"Sounds like experience talking."

"My father was a professor at the University of Dublin."

"Liar." Mary pointed at him. "Don't think Henry didn't give me a little reading to do about you when I started this job."

"Worried I was mad?"

"I didn't want to have to leave a 'just in case' note for my husband should that turn out to be true." Mary shuffled in her seat. "I know for a fact you're an orphan."

"I wasn't always." John sniffed. "One of my father's former colleagues, at University of Dublin, found me when I was sixteen and got me a scholarship in my father's name. Told me all about him."

"Alright then, fair point." Mary interlaced her fingers. "What else do these professors have?"

"Research. These are patient people guided by results but also by the thrill of the hunt in a decidedly tame way."

"I can imagine if they've got to comb journals and then meticulously track all the details of their own projects." Mary sighed, "I'll assume there's a third."

"Why would you assume that?"

"Because there's always a third." John only blinked as Mary groaned and explained. "Did you watch the _Battle of the Bastards_?"

"Didn't everyone?"

"Did you notice the part at the beginning, with the arrows?"

"The kid didn't zigzag so he got what he deserved."

Mary scowled, "No you heartless man. The music built on the third arrow shot until you were sure that would be the one that killed him."

John nodded, "And it was the fourth."

"Exactly." Mary pointed at John, "People like lists of three. There's a symmetry to it… Or an expectation. I'm not entirely sure what literary device it is but whichever one it is, that's it."

"Alright, third is…" John worked his tongue over his teeth. "Team work and solitary research."

"What?"

"You said that the writers of this paper come from four universities and three different continents between the six people, yes?"

"Right."

"That means a lot of collaboration but also a lot of individual work. They're meeting, making decisions, delegating, and then separating like a well-oiled machine." John shrugged, "You have very focused teams or solitary recluses if they were interested in glory or money."

"So they've accepted poverty because they've got big hearts, big brains, and tiny egos?" Mary guffawed. "That doesn't sound like a single professor I had at Uni."

"But how many of those professors were world-renowed researchers working in…" John checked the papers. "Botanical sciences?"

He stopped, frowning and turned back to the pages as Mary spoke. "If I accept this as true, how would you go in since you agreed that research was a bad idea?"

John did not respond and flinched at Mary's sharp finger jabbing him in the arm. "Ow."

"What was your idea then?" She shook her head, "You can read the background information later."

"Right." John closed the file and tucked it at his side. "Our approach is as an NGO. A well-funded one to justify the expense of getting access to proprietary material still under patent but we propose it as a joint-research venture that's willing to give a real-world testing opportunity."

"You think they'd go for that?"

"These are people with-"

"Big hearts and small egos, yeah, I got it." Mary gathered her things. "I'll pitch it to Henry and see if he can make it work."

"May I ask," John held up a finger as Mary stood. "When did Henry decide I needed a middle-man for all of this?"

"It's more that you're my mentor." Mary shuddered, "I actually rather detest that word, I'll be honest, and I was really hoping to never have to use it in my life but I guess you never know."

"Henry wants you to replace me?"

"Don't think I'm cut out for it?"

"I think you'll do marvelously. I'm just wondering why he didn't consider you before ever throwing in with me?"

"I was on maternity leave." Mary nodded at John, "I'll contact you when we've got a target."

"I've got that figured out as well." John tapped a name on the paper. "We get it through her."

Mary bent to read the name and her jaw dropped a moment before she shook her head. "No. We can't."

"Why not?"

"Because…" Mary retook her seat and pulled the folder to the table to place her finger over the name. "That's my friend."

"How do you know Anna?"

"How do you?" Mary's eyes narrowed, "And why did you call her 'Anna'?"

"That's her name."

"It's got her as 'Doctor Anna Smith' here and anyone not on familiar terms with someone usually refers to them by their salutation and their surname, not by their first name."

"We… are recent acquaintances."

"Meaning you've had sex before."

"I take umbrage that your first-"

"Tell me I'm wrong." Mary sat back, folding her arms over her chest and pursing her lips as John pursed his lips. "Thought so. She wouldn't happen to be this morning's delight would she? Because I know she was in town for a conference."

"Had coffee with her did you?"

"Tea, actually." Mary put a hand through her hair. "This is bad."

"Why?"

"Because you've still got a meeting in Paris with the bugger who's hired us for this and if it is who I think it is then he'll have picked Anna out of a line-up."

John opened his mouth, "What makes you think you know who's hired us?"

"Because, as I said, Anna Smith and I've been friends since Uni. She's the one with all the research papers and experience." Mary ground her teeth. "And she's been dogged by the kind of big-business interest you said she wouldn't take to very well. The kind of people who don't like the word 'no' and exercise their persistence in a very rape-y kind of way."

"And we've just signed ourselves up to work with… them?"

"Him" Mary corrected and sighed. "I had this feeling in my gut that it was a bad idea to come back to this business."

"Then why did you?"

"Because I'm good at it and a local solicitor isn't exactly the main breadwinner anymore." Mary looked over the names on the paper again. "I don't know the other names on this paper, at all, but I'll bet Anna's the main brains behind it all."

"Other than your obvious esteem for her, what makes you so sure?"

"This's been her passion since childhood." Mary smiled a little as her eyes took on the unfocused glaze of a memory. "She told me once, when she was drunk."

"It took her getting drunk to tell you that?"

"It took both of us getting drunk to get to know one another and spill our secrets." Mary sighed, "After the end of our first month at Uni we probably would've moved a body together in the middle of the night."

"That's loyalty."

"That's Anna." Mary closed her eyes, "Stealing this from her'll break her heart. This is her passion and we're going to sell it to an unscrupulous asshole."

"We could always say no. We've only taken the deposit for the meeting." John shrugged, "It's in Paris, tomorrow morning, and all we've got to do is meet with them, act interested, and then say no."

"And then what? When he hires the next guy without a personal attachment or a shred of decency to do it?"

"We drop Anna a very direct warning and keep her safe."

Mary shook her head, "We can't protect her or the research forever."

"Then we just have to protect it until it can be presented." John opened his hands. "Best thing for this information is publication. The moment it's out there then people know about it. They'd ask questions if it suddenly pops up in the ownership of someone else."

Mary clacked her teeth together and then nodded. "Alright. If you think you could get that to work we'll fly it your way." She held up a warning finger. "If, for any reason, we think this could go tits up on us we pull the plug and we get everyone the hell out of there and release this on the internet."

"Fine by me." John stood, "And yes, by the way."

"Yes what?"

"This morning. I was with-"

"Stop." Mary held up a hand and scrunched her eyes closed. "I don't want to think about that."

"You asked."

"It was rhetorical." Mary gathered her things for the second time. "I'll see you tomorrow morning in Paris."

"Not riding with me on the train?"

"Best not." Mary sighed, "And since they're only planning to meet you at the terminal I'll be shadowing. Henry'll send the surveillance gear so I'll just need you to wear a bone mike."

"We've got those now?"

"I need something they won't pick up when your mouth's closed and doesn't have an electrical signal in case they wand you. Which, knowing the kind of person willing to pay your price for this, they will." Mary eyed John, "Is this really the job where you get out?"

"That's the plan."

"Going to retire and leave behind your life of crime?"

"I'm planning to leave everything behind and start fresh."

"Hell of a midlife crisis."

John chuckled, "I decided a long time ago that I didn't know when my midlife crisis was going to be so I'd just have a perpetual crisis."

"Sounds exhausting."

"You've no idea."

"I've a five-year-old. I think I know a bit about exhausted."

"Touché." John took a breath. "You'll see me in Paris then."

"Yes I will."

* * *

John settled in the seat and let out a breath, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back to tap the glass. He cracked his eyelids slightly to survey the surroundings before closing his eyes again just to hear the room around him. At the crackle in his teeth but adjusted his jaw and glanced down at his watch to read the message typed there.

 _Don't screw this up._

"Thanks for the vote of confidence Mary." He worked his jaw again and pulled his bag closer to dig inside it. Someone's foot kicked it and he looked up, "Hey mate, watch where you're-"

The man hulking above him was the size of a mountain and his friend looked like a partnering cliff on the Seven Sisters. John tugged his bag between his feet and settled back in his chair to try and look at both men simultaneously. "Must be a squeeze for you in economy class."

"That's why they fly private with me." The men parted like doors to allow another man between them. "The expense of bodyguards hardly bites into your paycheck when you've got an account the size of mine."

"I'm not sure I could even being to imagine." John eyed the man up and down, "Haven't I seen your face on television before?"

"I'm sure you have. My father likes to get us taking pictures together." The man took the seat next to John. "Thinks the world needs to know the new face of the Green Federation when he retires next year."

"I heard Nigel Green planned on living forever." John shrugged, "But I guess they never did find the Fountain of Youth so who's really living forever anyway?"

"Not sure I'd want to." The younger man shuddered. "So much risk of losing everything you loved."

"How so?"

"Imagine you had a shirt from a particular century and no one remembers how to replicate that style or the stitching anymore. Or if you're trying to remember a piece of music that wasn't recorded and the instruments to play it no longer exist. Or, perhaps the worst, all the graves you'd have to visit for fallen friends you'd leave dotting continents."

"You've given this a great deal of thought."

"I wanted to be a vampire when I was nine." The man extended a hand to John, "Alex Green by the way, I don't think we've met."

"I'm a bit too average for the likes of Alex Green to just meet." John took the hand and shook firmly before releasing.

"You make me sound so far above the common people."

"I've not met many who call the average human 'common people' and still considered themselves average."

Green chuckled, "I guess you're right. My average isn't your average, is it?"

"No sir."

"As such," Green leaned toward him, "My men are going to search your bag and then you. I'd suggest you cooperate and don't try to make too much noise. It'd be an awkward way to start out our partnership."

"It would." John stood, extending his arms for the men to pat him down. One of them flicked out a wand and John closed his mouth as if helping lift his chin for the electronics search. They finished in a moment and nodded at Green before walking five feet away from him in either direction to give them room. "Well trained, aren't they? That come standard or did you pay extra for it?"

"I got them discounted at the same place I bought my pet tiger and my hunting mastiffs." Green resettled in his chair. "I'm eager to discuss our business, Professor. I'm a busy man and this little… charade, has me feeling a bit frustrated."

"There were cheaper options than me, I'm sure."

"The site said 'The Professor' was the best and I don't settle for less."

John measured Green from head to toe. "No, I don't suppose you do."

"Was that judgement I heard in your voice, Professor?"

"Observation." John tipped his head to the side, "Why do you want this information, Mr. Green? If I can be so bold as to enquire."

"Inquiring won't do you any harm." Green opened his hands to him. "I'm sure you're a man of the world."

"Not a title I'd use."

"Man familiar with world news then?"

"I've watched my fair share of it." John waited, "What's the connection?"

"My father recently acquired some oil fields in Serbia, as part of a merger with a Russian company, and as we were investigating the land we discovered that there's the potential for all this global warming to give us another unforeseen advantage in Serbia."

"Not much can usually be said for Serbia."

"No, not much. But with the permafrost in danger of melting there's a great deal of planting potential. Potential we want to maximize as soon as we can."

"So you'll burn more oil to expose more permafrost and grow more plants?"

Green smiled, "And the world makes sense again."

"Not sure I'd watch the world burn just for a chance to grow in volcanic soil."

"It's some of the most fertile on earth." Green pointed at John, "And I didn't figure you for the moral type."

"I'm a professor."

"That's your handle, not who you are." Green narrowed his eyes, "Although, the longer I look at you the more something pricks at my brain. Have we met before? Some function or gala recently?"

"Like I said when we first met, Mr. Green, I don't run in your circles." John took a breath, "And you're right, I'm not a professor."

"Was that what you wanted to be when you were nine?"

"No, that's what my father was. A professor of moral philosophy."

"Then I'm sure he'd remind you that there's the philosophical notion of moral relativism that means we do the things we do in circumstances that relate to our situations as they seem morally right in the moment."

"I'm not sure that's exactly what that means but I'll assume you're wrapping a point to your little lightning rod there."

"I am." Green opened his hands. "You stealing this formula for us will provide hundreds of Russians with jobs. Exposing the permafrost increases the potential for ground yield. And melting the ice caps means cesspools like Miami or Los Angeles no longer exist."

"Fan of genocide, are you?"

"I'm a fan of winning, Professor, and this is how I do it." Green reached into his pocket and withdrew a small packet. He handed it over to John, "Your target, for the information."

John opened it and shook out the photograph and the flashdrive inside. "Seems a bit light for carrying information as life changing as you claim this is."

"From what I gather, I just need the changing password that connects to the drive her team uses." Green took a deep breath, his smug smirk deepening. "Finally a step ahead that doesn't include a cagey blonde with too high an opinion of herself."

"Not a fan of blondes?" Joh glanced at the picture and then read the details on the back before tucking it and the flashdrive back into the packet.

"Not a fan of women who don't see the once-in-a-lifetime chance I offer and turn it down." Green snorted, "Probably dry anyway."

John swallowed hard and handed the packet back over. "Unfortunately, Mr. Green, I don't think I'm interested in this one."

"Excuse me?" Green opened his mouth and gave an awkward, confused laugh. "We had a deal. This meeting was-"

"This meeting, as clearly stated in the invite, was to establish whether there were grounds here for me to pursue. And, if I so chose, to take your case." John pushed the packet into Green's hand. "I'm not interested in stealing research off a drive owned by a woman who jilted you somewhere. I don't do revenge theft. It's petty and beneath me."

"And breaking into vaults during speeches isn't?" John paused, reaching for his bag. "I was confused at first but then I realized your Australian accent was about as bad as I'd expect from someone who only ever watched _Crocodile Dundee_."

"Now you're just dating yourself." John straightened, "I watch _Secret City_."

"Still not the point."

"And what?" John pointed at the bodyguards. "Going to have them drag me to a police station and confess something about a vault?"

"No, I'm going to warn you about something." Green slid the packet into John's front pocket. "If you don't take this job, I'll just send someone else after her. And they won't be kind or considerate. Hell, they might even take her as part of their price and I couldn't give a damn about it."

"You'd threaten the life of this woman to get me to take your job?"

"I think you're the kind of person who went out of his way to break into a vault without breaking people and he'd do the same if I told you there's the possibility of breaking a woman involved." Green leaned back, pushing off the chair to stand. "At the end of the day, _Professor_ , it wasn't like you had much of a choice anyway. You were always going to take this job."

"Because I wouldn't have had another choice?"

Green leered, "Something like that." He snapped his fingers, summoning his bodyguards, and nodded at John. "You have a good day now. I expect some kind of results by the end of the week… If not sooner."

John watched him leave and then pressed a finger to his watch. He waited until Mary hurried to the seat next to him and handed the packet to her. "We're on the job and we need to start planning."

"Why did you agree to this?" Mary hissed, waving the packet in his face. "We agreed we were going to tell him, politely, to go bugger himself about all of this."

"We were."

"Then why'd you take the bloody job?"

"Because he knows I was the one who robbed him in Moscow." John sighed, pushing himself to stand and putting his bag on the chair to pull out his retractable cane. "And because he told me that whomever the next guy is will hurt Anna, if not kill her for what she has."

Mary stood as well, her fingers shaking on the packet. "What?"

John turned to Mary, "Green means business and he'll kill her or destroy her research, whatever it takes to get what he wants. That's all he cares about."

"So we're on the job now? Working for this psycho?"

"It's the only way to protect Anna and I'd like to think that we're both going to take a chance to make sure she doesn't get caught in the crossfire of what might be the worst decisions of our lives." John sighed, "I've never felt like I thoroughly buggered myself before but I'm getting the feeling now."

"I'm getting it too." Mary shoved the packet into her bag. "We'd better get back to London. We've got planning to do."


End file.
